What the Eyes Don't See
by reveur-amira
Summary: During one of Halloween Town's lavish celebrations at Skellington Manor, someone is murdered, and everyone is a suspect. Motives will be questioned, friendships will be tested to their limits, and nobody will ever see anybody else the same way again.
1. Black Magic

**Author's Note:**

This is sort of like a TNBC version of the classic game CLUE or the movie Gosford Park (which, if you haven't seen it, is quite good and I highly recommend it). Reviews are much appreciated, and they encourage me to write more content faster…/wink/ That being said, it's time for you to pull up a chair and a cup of hot cocoa and enjoy the dark, enchanting, humorous tale to come.

_**Rated T for language, drug/alcohol use, and suggestive themes.**_

Story by Amira; all related characters/settings are property of Tim Burton and Walt Disney Studios.

"_No party is any fun unless seasoned with folly." _

– _Desiderius Erasmus_

"Eleven bottles of wine, three mulled in autumn spices, three bottles of champagne, five trays of watercress sandwiches, two bowls of white and red grapes, three trays of assorted meat and cheese kabobs, two pumpkin pies, the whisky fountain has been ordered…what else?"

Hastily scribbling on a notepad, Jack Skellington paced in circles around his kitchen table. His ragdoll girlfriend, Sally, was seated at the counter across the room with a cup of tea and reading her monthly subscription of "Ghoul Vogue."

"Jack, must you throw such lavish celebrations for _every_ single holiday?" she asked as she turned a page in her magazine.

Jack stopped his pacing and looked at her in surprise. "What's the problem with that? For decades the entire town of Halloween has given its full attention 365 days per year on preparations for one holiday alone – Halloween. Ever since I discovered that other holidays exist, it's only appropriate to make the most out of them, too!"

Sally shook her head. "Alright, look, don't get over-heated. I was just thinking; Labor Day isn't even celebrated to this extent in the human world."

"Well it is in Halloween Town," Jack stated curtly as he set his notepad on the table. He crossed his arms and made a face. "Now help me out Sally, what am I missing?"

"Right now? Your tact, your sanity…your pants."

Jack nervously peered down, his hollow eye sockets widening in embarrassment. Sally was indeed correct. "I've been so busy thinking about all of the preparations for this party I guess I forgot to get fully dressed this morning," he said sheepishly. "I'll be right back."

Sally looked up from her magazine, managing to stifle a giggle as her boyfriend dashed upstairs to his bedroom. Then, in a juvenile tone she said to herself, "Hands off girls, he's mine."

_**Meanwhile…**_

Over on the south side of town, a rickety, shady-looking tree house sat atop a small soil mound on the edge of the Hinterlands. It was the home of three mischievous trick-or-treaters by the names of Lock, Shock and Barrel. They were the town's notorious pranksters and although they were quite young, they took part in many rebellious activities such as nightly drinking games and Vegas-style gambling with the blessing of their father-figure, Oogie Boogie. Right now, all four ghouls were seated in a circle around a ground-level table in the basement (also known as "Oogie's Domain) playing poker.

The little witch known as Shock slammed her cards on the table in frustration. "Lock's got a full house. I fold." She crossed her legs and lit a cigarette, scowling at the devil-boy sitting next to her.

"Hey! Cheater! You looked at my cards!" shouted Lock. "Too bad we aren't playing Russian Roulette, I could shoot you."

Shock's face twisted in mock desperation. "You're a funny one." She took a drag off her cigarette and turned toward their other playmate, Barrel, who was scrutinizing his cards while licking a lollipop. "Hey, fatty! Give it up already; Lock's got our asses beat!"

Barrel looked up from his hand and glared at Shock, his eyes narrowed. "You know what, Lock?" he said, gesturing with his shoulder towards the devil-boy. "Forget the gun, let's drop a house on this bitch and take her shoes."

"You wanna start with me?" Shock smashed her cigarette and flicked the butt at Barrel, and then proceeded to climb up onto the table.

"Children, children, knock it off!" boomed Oogie Boogie, the giant bug-sack sitting to Shock's right. "Normally I would condone this kind of behavior, in fact I'd even encourage it, but not during a real man's game."

"She started it!" pouted Lock as he pushed Shock's cards off the table.

"Oh, that's real mature, Pinhead." Shock spat.

"At least when I turn my head to the side, people don't mistake me for a flamingo."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"You're askin' for it now, Ginger!" Shock lunged at Lock and the two toppled to the ground in a messy brawl.

"HEY! I said knock it off!" Oogie rose from his seat and with menacing airs, loomed over the wrestling children.

Lock and Shock immediately halted their fracas as Oogie's enormous shadow enveloped them.

"Now," growled their leader, "As punishment for bringing such shame to the game of poker, you two are on errand duty today. I order you to run my letters to the post office, bring back any mail for us, take out the trash, wash the dishes and…oh, yes, deliver the big brown envelope on the kitchen table to Skellington Manor. Inside it are my personal preparations for Jack's Labor Day party this weekend."

"Since when do you give a rat's tail about party-planning?" inquired Barrel, still seated at the game table.

Oogie shrugged. "I don't, really. Jack and I are on fairly good terms now and I don't want to screw that up by not fulfilling my personal assignment for the party. All I had to do was design the invitations."

"While you're at it, why don't you design yourself a little skirt," muttered Shock under her breath.

Oogie's head whipped around and he glared at her threateningly. "Since you seem so keen on this 'brat-itude,' Shock, I'm not buying you any cigarettes for a week."

"What? No! Please!" Shock fell to her knees and clasped her hands together. "I'm almost out as it is, I can't wait that long for a new pack! I need my Snarlboro Reds…"

"Well you should have thought of that before your smart remark, sister." Oogie shuffled towards the elevator. "Maybe one of your boyfriends will let you bum from him, but that's not up to me."

Lock scoffed at this suggestion, folding his arms. "Don't look at me. I'm just a dumb ginger, remember? I never learned how to share."

Shock groaned in response. "Dammit, Barrel only smokes lights. Those aren't good enough for me."

"Ha-ha!" snickered Lock as he scurried behind the Wheel of Torture.

"Now remember, children," warned Oogie as he pulled a lever causing the elevator to rise. "The white envelopes on the kitchen table are letters to my dear grandmother; those go to the post office. The brown one is for Jack. Now, I suggest you get started, it's already noon and you've still got a full day of errands ahead of you." His booming laughter echoed from above as he disappeared through a trap door in the ceiling.

Shock was still sitting on the ground with her arms crossed, muttering spitefully to herself. "Ugh, I'm already craving another cigarette!" she whined. "But I can't have one now, I need to make this pack last seven more days."

Barrel, who was still seated at the poker table licking his lollipop, glanced up at her. "Who're you talking to, Shock?" he said sarcastically.

"Forget it," spat Shock as she stood up. "C'mon Lock. Let's do these stupid chores so I can forget about my nicotine cravings."

"Fine, but just because you can't smoke doesn't mean I won't!" Lock sneered maliciously. "Now, where're my Snarlboro's?"

Shock grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the elevator. "You, my friend, are shameless." They ascended into the tree house above.


	2. Wild Orchid

"_Freaks are the much-needed escape from the humdrum. They are poetry."_

– _Albert Perry_

Back at Skellington Manor, Sally was in the kitchen delicately assembling a platter of roasted pumpkin seeds, humming softly to the tune of "Beautiful Dreamer." She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a roll of saran wrap, carefully placing it over her appetizers.

Suddenly, she noticed something queer – the house was quiet! All morning Jack had been shuffling around, slamming doors and opening drawers and taping Labor Day posters to the walls (it still baffled Sally that there _were_ such things as Labor Day posters). She put the tray of pumpkin seeds in the pantry and headed into the living room.

"Jack, honey, are you in here?" she called from the entryway.

No response.

"That's odd. He must be upstairs." Sally resigned and took a seat on the couch, only to jump back up upon hearing a loud _snap!_

"Mother of God!" Jack sat up on the sofa, clutching his left leg. "You dislocated my knee!"

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry!" Sally pleaded, covering her mouth with her hands. "I didn't see you lying there!"

"Ah, don't worry about it, love," said Jack as he clicked his knee back into joint. "It's happened before. It's times like these that I wish I had flesh to cushion my bones, but what can I do." He yawned and sat up.

Sally took a seat next to him, interlocking her arm with his. She rested her head on his boney shoulder. "Honey, you've been working so hard all day…you should go back to sleep. I'll take over the preparations for a couple hours."

"No, I really should get back to work," Jack sighed. "Thank you though, that's sweet of you to offer. Now where did I put my notepad…?"

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

"Now who could that be?" Jack wondered as he started to stand up.

There was several knocks, followed by the Mayor's boisterous calls. "Jack? You home?"

"I'm going back to sleep." Jack immediately fell back onto the sofa, emitting a fake snore.

Sally chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you. Fine, I'll talk to him."

She rose from her seat and approached the front door, opening it reluctantly. She jumped slightly as the Mayor greeted her with a loud "Hello, m'lady! Is Jack home?"

"Actually, he's asleep at the moment," replied Sally matter-of-factly. "And right now I'm wishing to do the same. But what can I help you with?"

"Oh, I was just going to ask him what to wear to his Labor Day celebration," said the Mayor with his signature wide-toothed grin. "I found this dashing white tux at a place called 'Nordstrom's' in the human world…but let me tell you, it is so hard to find things there in a triple-extra-large. And everyone was looking at me funny…like I just sat up out of a coffin or something."

Sally heaved an impatient sigh and twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. "Well, I mean, you _are_ from Halloween Town…"

Ignoring her, the Mayor continued, "And then a little kid started going nuts when he saw the face on the back of my head, shouting 'Voldemort, Voldemort!' What is a 'Voldemort' anyways?"

"You know what, Mayor? I'll have Jack call you later. But thanks for stopping by."

Sally started to close the door, but the Mayor protested. "No, wait! Why don't you come with me and I'll show you the tux? Since you are Jack's girlfriend I'm sure he trusts your judgment…"

"Sorry Mayor, I really should be getting back to baking…" replied Sally as she attempted to close the door again.

"But it's white and terrific and distinguished and –" The Mayor's voice was cut off as Sally pulled the door shut and locked it in several places. She groaned in aggravation and retreated back into the living room where her boyfriend fake-slept.

"Is he gone?" came Jack's voice from the sofa.

"Yeah, he's gone," replied Sally as she sat down in a loveseat next to the fireplace. "For now."

"Good," Jack said as he stood up and stretched. "What did he want?"

Feeling suddenly drained, Sally rested her head in her hands and sleepily glanced up at the grandfather clock. "Huh? Oh…he said he wants to show you his new white tux for the party."

"What!" boomed Jack in disbelief. "No, no, no, that's all wrong! You can't wear white to a Labor Day celebration!"

Sally nearly fell out of her seat. "I thought you couldn't wear white _after_ Labor Day."

Jack threw his arms in the air. "Still, I cannot believe him! Why does he always…ow," resigning his rant, Jack heaved an exasperated sigh and massaged his skull. "I have a headache. I'm going to make some coffee."

"I think we're out of beans," said Sally. "Why don't you run to Scarebucks? I can hold down the floor here for a little while. You need to take a break; all this stress over the party is making you highly unpleasant."

Jack nodded and snatched his wallet off of the coffee table. He bent down to kiss Sally's forehead. "You're right, dear. I'm sorry for going off on you like that. I'll be back in half-an-hour or so."

Smiling warmly in response, Sally took his place on the couch as he exited through the front door. Within moments, she had drifted off to sleep.


	3. Ginger Mousse

"_Little tube of mighty power,_

_Charmer of an idle hour,_

_Object of my warm desire."_

_- Isaac Hawkins Browne, "A Pipe of Tobacco"_

"Alright, so would you rather do the dishes or take out the trash?" asked Shock, who was standing on the porch of the tree house examining the list of chores Oogie Boogie had drawn out.

Lock thought for a moment, and then replied, "Dishes. Barrel spent all last night vomiting in the trashcan upstairs drunk off of peach schnapps."

Rolling her eyes, Shock acquiesced. "Fine. Now come on, let's go to the town square and deliver these stupid letters. I want to hurry and get back so I can take a nap."

The two children crossed the bridge from the porch to the mainland in silence. Though the pumpkin sun gleamed high in the sky, there was a bitter autumn chill in the breeze. Lock wrapped a wool scarf around his neck and lit a cigarette, taking long, slow drags as they walked.

Trying her best to ignore him, Shock took out her cell phone and began scrolling through her messages. She chuckled softly. "So I guess Barrel found a couple of shrooms underneath Oogie's nightstand."

Lock exhaled another puff of smoke. "Oh yeah?" he said. "That's funny. He should have saved them for the Labor Day party this weekend."

"Well no, because Jack's going to have a ton of expensive alcohol and I'd want to spend my time enjoying that in itself, not sitting in a corner pondering the meaning of cottage cheese." Shock replied.

The demon children laughed as they made their way through the cemetery. They passed by Behemoth, who was simply standing in the clearing and staring at a gnarled tree absentmindedly. Lock halted his stride and put out his cigarette on a nearby headstone. He then reached down and picked up a rock, rolling it around in his palm while winking at Shock mischievously.

A sly grin spread across Shock's narrow face. "Do it," she whispered.

Lock snickered and chucked the rock as hard as he could towards Behemoth. It bounced off the burly monster's head with a hollow clunking sound; Lock and Shock immediately darted behind a large gravestone, giggling delinquently.

After a few moments, Behemoth realized what had happened and he slowly turned around, sauntering awkwardly over to the headstone behind which the children cowered.

"Shit, he knows where we are!" hissed Lock frantically.

Shock smacked him on the arm. "Shush! That's because he can hear you!"

"Hey! You're talking too!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"No you!"

The children were halted mid-argument by a looming shadow and the sound of raspy breathing. They nervously glanced upwards and saw Behemoth leering at them from the other side of the gravestone.

"Um…we're sorry," murmured Lock pathetically.

Motionless, Behemoth continued to stare at them with a blank expression. Then he abruptly shouted, "Gummy Bears!"

Startled out of their wits, Shock and Lock took off running down the cobblestone path, not stopping once to look back until they reached the town square. They slowed to a walk and finally sat down on a bench next to the central fountain, gasping for air.

After recovering from a violent coughing fit, Shock composed herself and rasped, "Ugh, one of the downsides to being a smoker."

"Yeah," agreed Lock, breathing heavily. "That, and the fact that we're paying money to slowly poison ourselves. Maybe we should quit."

Both of them paused and looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Speaking of which…could I bum a cigarette?" asked Shock in a sour but hopeful tone while twiddling her thumbs.

Lock's face hardened. "No."

After a brief period of bickering, the two decided they'd go for a coffee break before the post office.

_**Meanwhile…**_

"Yeah, um, I'll have a double-tall pumpkin spice latte, please," Jack told the barista while sifting through his wallet.

"Will that be all for you today, sir?" asked the barista, who happened to be Anastasia, also known as the Undersea Gal.

"Yes, dear, thank you." Jack handed her his coffee card and walked over to the hand-off counter. He scrolled through the text messages on his cell phone, most of which were from the Mayor. Jack sighed and tucked his phone away. Feeling guilty about loosing his temper in front of Sally, he contemplated buying her flowers as an apology gift. _Now what was her favorite kind of flower, again? Oh yes, those dead prickly things she liked to pick at…_

"Hiya, Jack!" a high-pitched, mousey voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked down to see Shock and Lock standing behind him. They were grinning devilishly.

"Oh, crap!" Jack groaned, covering his face with his spindly fingers.

"Ouch," replied Lock. "All we wanted to do was deliver this letter to you…"

Jack snatched it up out of Lock's tiny hands. "What is this? Some kind of bomb?"

Shock laughed out loud. "Geeze, dude, you're really jumping to conclusions today. I think we deserve a little more credit than that."

If Jack had eyes, he would have rolled them. He took a deep breath and straightened his bat bowtie, trying his best to remain calm. "First of all, please don't call me 'dude.' Second, what am I supposed to expect? You guys don't exactly have the best track record around here."

Lock shrugged. "Look, if you don't want it, you don't have to take it. But don't come crying to us when nobody shows up to your party because they didn't get a one-of-a-kind hand-crafted Oogie Boogie invitation."

Jack reluctantly tucked the envelope away and gave the children a curt nod. "Thank you." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Run along now."

Both Lock and Shock shot each other a glance that to Jack read something like, 'Can you believe this guy?' before scurrying away to get in line.

"Double-tall pumpkin spice latte!" called Anastasia from the bar.

"Thanks a lot," said Jack as he placed a lid on his coffee and waved goodbye to the aquatic barista.

"Anytime…Bone Daddy." She gave him a flirty wink.

Jack just smiled meekly and headed out the door.

Back at Skellington Manor, Sally had just awakened. She sat up on the couch and stretched, fixing a couple stitches on her arms and legs that had come loose during her nap. She glanced up at the grandfather clock. _2:15 p.m._

At that moment, she heard the front door open and close, and then Jack entered the room sipping a cup of coffee. He sat down next to her on the sofa, and took her small, delicate hand in his.

"Want some?" he asked, offering her his cup. "It's pumpkin spice. Anastasia made it."

Sally smiled and kindly took a sip. "Anastasia, huh? She doesn't make coffee this good for just anyone, you know."

"Sally, you know it's not like that!" Jack replied defensively. "She's worked at Scarebucks for three years; she makes good coffee for everyone."

Sally nudged him with her elbow before reaching up to kiss his cheek. "I'm just messing with you."

The two ghouls embraced and Jack combed his fingers through Sally's silky red hair. "You are so beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

Sally smiled warmly and took his face in her palms. "And you are so…obsessive."

With that, Jack pressed his lips firmly against hers and they engaged in a long, passionate kiss. Immediately their memories flashed back to that fateful Christmas night several years ago; they had stood upon Spiral Hill, feet buried deep in powdery snow, and confessed their undying love for one another. It was the first time they kissed, bathing in a shower of holy moonlight. Even though they had been together for almost three years now, each kiss they shared felt like the first.

At last they pulled away from each other, and simply gazed lovingly into each others' eyes. Then Sally blushed and said softly, "Who taught you to kiss so well?"

Jack grinned and winked at her. "Anastasia."

Sally rolled her eyes. "You're hilarious," she scoffed as she smacked him on the shoulder.

"Come on, you know you're my girl." Jack gave Sally a peck on the cheek before he reached into his blazer and withdrew the envelope Lock and Shock had given him earlier.

"Who's that from?" inquired Sally.

"I ran into the Gruesome Twosome at Scarebucks and they gave this to me," Jack answered and then added skeptically, "They said it contains the invitation Oogie designed for the party."

Sally scooted closer. "Open it! Let's see if we've got the future president of Hallmark in our midst."

Jack chuckled and carefully tore open the seal. He reached inside and withdrew a single sheet of folded paper.

Sally cocked her head to one side curiously. "I thought he was supposed to send you a bunch of invitations?"

"This is probably just his draft of it and he wants me to take it to the print shop to have it copied," Jack suggested. He unfolded the piece of paper and began reading the text. Suddenly his brow furrowed and his face twisted into a look of utter bewilderment. "What the…?"

"What, what does it say?" asked Sally. She leaned over and examined the text for herself. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my…is this letter for you?"

"My darling, I'm dreadfully sorry I haven't been over to visit you in such a long time," Jack read aloud. "But I want to you know that I do miss your homemade cockroach crumble very much. I think about it every day." He paused and looked at Sally in disbelief. "Is he trying to make up for the Sandy Claws incident three years ago? Because if he is, tell him I forgive him already!"

Sally shrugged and returned her gaze to the letter, continuing to read, "I hope you are doing well in your old age. I wish I could come over and help you out around the house, but Lock, Shock and Barrel have been a handful lately."

"I'm not _that_ old!" shouted Jack, looking dumbfounded.

"And don't worry," Sally continued, "There's a man out there for you somewhere. I hear they have senior bingo nights in the Town Rec. Center on Thursdays at 7pm. You should check it out…there may be a foxy grandpa waiting for you there! Sincerely yours, Oogie Boogie."

Both Jack and Sally sat speechless for a moment, struggling to comprehend what they had just read. Then Sally shrugged, pinching her fingers together and laying them aside of her lips, pretending to take a hit off of a joint.

Jack heaved a loud sigh and fell back on the couch, massaging his temples. "Whatever you've got there, Sally," he finally spoke, "Give me some."


	4. Wanderlust

"_When one tears away the veils and shows them naked, people's souls give off such a pungent smell of decay."_

_- Octave Mirbeau_

"No, for the last time, you're not getting a cigarette!" said Lock as he and Shock exited the post office. "If I give you one now, you'll only be blaming me forty years from now when you're in the hospital breathing through a tube."

Shock huffed angrily. "Come on, you smoke too! In the end we'll both be breathing through tubes."

"But you smoke more than I do."

"Only like three more a day!"

"I'm still gonna live longer than you."

"Oh what, thirty seconds?"

The children continued bickering as they made their way across town and through the cemetery, all the way until they reached the bridge to their infamous tree house. They crossed over and stepped into the elevator, both folding their arms and scowling at each other bitterly.

When they reached the main level, the front door was propped open and Barrel was sitting on a stool he had dragged outside to the porch, smoking a cigarette and texting on his phone. He glanced up and nodded at his two playmates as they passed him on their way into the house.

Oogie Boogie was in the kitchenette off to the right, stirring something vigorously in a large pot. "Hello, children," he greeted them as they slumped on the couch in the living room. "I trust you delivered the letters to their respectful places?"

"Yes, master," muttered Shock sarcastically. She yawned widely and crossed her legs on the coffee table. "Can we take a little break now? I'm exhausted."

"If you wish," Oogie replied as he turned down the heat on the stove. "Just remember, those dishes aren't going to scrub themselves!"

Shock mumbled something incoherently, and then flipped on the television.

At that moment, Barrel walked in, kicking the doorstop out of place and dragging his stool back to the kitchenette. "What'cha makin' there?" he inquired as he took a seat at the island counter where Oogie was standing.

"Well, I had planned to make some Snake and Spider Stew, but on account of the behavior your two friends exhibited down in the casino I didn't think it fitting." Oogie glanced up at Lock and Shock, who were sitting quietly on the couch, unresponsive. He rolled his eyes and continued stirring.

"So what is that, then?" Barrel scooted closer and peered into the pot curiously.

"It's just plain old Beetle Bisque," Oogie replied. "Not exactly five stars, is it?" He raised his voice as he spoke, but Lock and Shock still sat on the couch motionless, a glazed look in their eyes as they stared at the television.

"I love your Beetle Bisque!" said Barrel. "I love everything you make."

"Don't be a kiss-ass." Oogie turned off the stove completely and placed a cover over his pot.

Barrel hunched over and twiddled his thumbs dejectedly. Suddenly, the house phone gave a loud ring, and Oogie sauntered over to the desk where it sat. He scrutinized the caller ID, raising a nonexistent eyebrow.

"Hmm, it's Jack," he said suspiciously. He hesitantly picked up the phone and held it up to his ear. "Y'ello?"

Suddenly interested, Lock and Shock craned their necks over the back of the couch, watching as their guardian listened to Jack's muffled voice through the phone, his face twisting into an odd expression of humiliation and perplexity.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry…No, no, I swear that wasn't for you…Uh-huh. Shit, this is embarrassing…Don't worry; I'll have the actual invitation to you tonight. I'm very sorry. Lock and Shock haven't heard the last of this…Okay. Bye." Oogie slammed the phone down and turned menacingly towards the two children on the couch, glaring at them like death.

After a moment of silence, Lock finally spoke, "So, we're having Beetle Bisque tonight?"

Oogie roared and took a threatening step forward, placing his hands on his hips. "Oh, don't even," he growled. "Just answer me this: Which envelope did you give to Jack today at Scarebucks?"

Shock and Lock looked at each other nervously, and then Shock squeaked, "The white one…?"

"You imbeciles!" boomed Oogie. "I told you twice to give him the brown one! The white one was for my grandmother!" The giant bug sack paced frantically yet clumsily around the island counter; Barrel carefully avoided his furious gaze. "Jack's a mess. You two are up to your little misshapen heads in trouble."

"We're sorry!" pleaded Shock. "But this is what happens when you deny me my cigarettes! I get so distracted from the cravings that I forget these little details."

"I won't take any excuses," said Oogie angrily as he grabbed the pot of soup and shoved it in the fridge. "Break time's over. Get back to work. And don't expect your chores to end with dishes and garbage. In fact, I think my whole casino deserves a once-over."

Lock and Shock's mouths fell open as they stared at him in disbelief. "But…" Lock started.

"No buts!" shouted Oogie as he stumbled towards the stairs. "You are to start working immediately. Come on, Barrel. Let's go smoke a bowl."

Barrel's face lit up as he hopped off the stool and scurried after the furious boogieman. He then paused at the foot of the stairs and glanced back apologetically at his playmates. Lock and Shock just rolled their eyes, waving him off.

Shock picked up and empty beer can that was sitting on the coffee table and chucked it at the television. "Well, bang me hard." she pouted, crossing her arms.

Lock scooted all the way to the other end of the couch in mock exaggeration. "I think I'll pass on that."

"Ugh, you're so immature," Shock spat, flipping him off.

With that, the demon children reluctantly rose from their seats, grabbed the cleaning supplies out of the closet, and trekked down into the casino.


	5. Coquette

"_I've spent most of my life walking under that hovering cloud, jealousy, whose acid raindrops blurred my vision and burned holes in my heart."_

_- Astrid Alauda_

Night befell the black-and-yellow town of Halloween. The rising crescent moon cast an eerie blanket of pale, milky light over Spiral Hill and into the pumpkin patch where Jack Skellington sat in solitude. Several bats flapped their wings overhead, lingering above the Pumpkin King only for a moment before disappearing into the night sky.

Jack continued to sit in silence, tracing the image of a wine glass with his spindly finger in the dirt. He looked at it for a moment, narrowing his eyes, and then he stepped on it with his foot, wiping it away quickly.

"You know, alcohol is pleasurable when appropriate but if you try to use it solve your problems, it will only make things worse."

Startled, Jack whipped around at the unexpected voice from behind. Standing on a large gourd was Anastasia, the aquatic creature that worked at Scarebucks.

"Good Lord!" gasped Jack, clutching his chest. "You nearly sent my non-existent heart into arrhythmia. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," replied Anastasia, who was now gazing solemnly at the moon. "I could sense earlier that something was troubling you."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

Anastasia chuckled. "Come on, Jack. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to assume that the _Pumpkin_ King might spend a lot of time in the _pumpkin_ patch."

Jack sighed and turned back around, resting his face in his palms. "You're welcome to sit, if you'd like."

Without hesitation, Anastasia hopped down from the gourd and took a seat on a squat pumpkin next to him. For a moment, the two of them sat wordlessly and just listened to the pitter-patter of rats' paws on the cobblestone path and the rapid fluttering of bats' wings up above. The hoot of an owl echoed from the Hinterlands, followed by the shrill call of a coyote.

Then Jack broke the silence with a drawn-out sigh. "I would never use alcohol to solve my problems. I'd never want Sally to go through what my own mother went through with my father."

Anastasia's bottom lip curled in sympathy, and she awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Just be careful. Alcoholism is hereditary, you know."

"I know." Jack sighed again and turned to face the undersea gal. "Look, miss, I appreciate your concern, truly…"

Anastasia cut him off. "Please, call me Anna," she said.

"Look, Anna," Jack continued, slightly irritated. "I have a girlfriend I'm madly in love with. She's practically my fiancée. You shouldn't treat me the way you do."

"I'm just being nice," Anastasia muttered defensively. "Plus, I'm just wondering why, if you guys have been so 'madly in love' for all of three years, she _isn't_ your fiancée already?"

This comment caught Jack off guard. He frowned and turned away from the finned ghoul that sat beside him. "Sally and I don't need to be married to prove how much we love each other."

"Might it be possible…" started Anastasia, who paused for a moment before continuing, "…that the Master of Fright has this fear of commitment because he doesn't love his girlfriend as much as he thought?"

Jack stood up and glared at her furiously. That was it. His face hardened as he took a menacing step towards Anastasia, who flinched slightly. "Now you listen to me," he growled. "I've been nothing but patient with you for years. I didn't mind your behavior so much when I was single; certainly it was aggravating that you didn't seem to pick up on my disinterest but I never told you off, as I am a gentleman. But now, you know very well that I've been in a serious relationship for nearly three years with someone I obviously care deeply about and you – you continue to tromp smugly around my wilderness like a filthy little slut!"

Anastasia's mouth dropped open in astonishment. She just sat and stared at the enraged skeleton before her, looking dumbfounded and insulted. After an awkward minute of silence between the two of them, she calmly composed herself, brushing the dust off her scaly legs.

The fire in Jack's eye sockets had only slightly faded, but he took a couple steps back and straightened his bowtie. "Now, Anastasia," he ordered firmly. "Kindly leave my presence."

Anastasia rose from her seat on the pumpkin and returned his hard gaze. "Fine," she spat. "No problem. Good luck to you." She turned around promptly and slinked off towards the marshlands at the base of Spiral Hill.

Jack watched her go with folded arms and narrowed eyes; his body was motionless but his mind was rapidly turning. He despised Anastasia. Who did she think she was? She was always stalking him and flirting with him, even when he and Sally walked arm-in-arm across town. She drew hearts on his coffee cups at Scarebucks. She always made an effort to graze his shoulder with a scandalous fin upon passing, and no matter how clear he tried to make it that she had no chance, for some reason she never let up.

He groaned, exasperated, and trudged through the pumpkin patch until he reached the cobblestone path. Slowly and silently, he dragged his tired feet into town. The old bell in the clock tower echoed solemnly throughout the plaza as the clock struck ten. Halloween was alive with the sights and sounds of the nightlife; dozens of creatures filled the taverns and roamed the streets, many of them waving cheerfully to Jack as he dejectedly walked on by.

All of a sudden, Harley Quinn and Chucky McClown stumbled out of the alleyway between Boogie's Bar and Skully's Coffee House (Scarebucks' rival company), blatantly drunk. Harley had several beer cans entangled in the striped tentacles on his head, and Chucky was holding a bottle of vodka. They stupidly tripped over a water trough that was pushed up against the side of one of the buildings, laughing boisterously as they toppled to the ground right in front of Jack.

"Hey, it's Jack!" shouted Chucky as he rolled off of Harley, attempting (and then failing) to stand.

"Wazzuuuuup!" croaked Harley, still lying on the ground giggling foolishly.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," said Jack politely as he stepped over the two intoxicated demons before him.

"W-wait!" Finally able to stand, Chucky sauntered over to Jack and held up his bottle. "You don't look so good…you need to get happy, like us. Have a drink or two! Th-then you can come play 'pokey' with us in the casino."

"You mean 'poker?'" corrected Jack, refusing the bottle by pushing it away with his hand. "Thanks anyways, but I really need to be getting home to Sally."

Harley threw his arms up in frustration. "Sally! It's always that damn Sally! You're not even mmmarried yet and she doesn't l-let you have any fun. What the hell, man?" A beer can suddenly fell out of his tentacles and onto the ground; Harley forgot all about his rant and burst out laughing once again.

"Y-you know, technically it's Dr. F's fault for creating her in the first place," added Chucky matter-of-factly.

"Now you look –" Jack started to scold them and then quickly resigned, as Harley and Chucky were too busy clumsily chasing the beer can back down the alleyway.

Jack felt like screaming, but he resisted. He simply clenched his fists and kicked the water trough over which the drunkards had tripped, and then resumed his walk up the street.

When he finally reached the gates to Skellington Manor, he paused and composed himself, trying his best to look fairly pleasant. He didn't want to cause Sally any more distress than he already had lately. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and pushed open the gates, brushing his suit off as he climbed the stairs up towards the house.

He opened the front door quietly, wiping his shoes on the pumpkin-shaped mat before stepping inside. "Sally, are you up?" he called softly into the dwelling. Instead he was greeted by Zero, his miniature ghost dog with a glowing nose.

He smiled and stroked Zero's long, ribbon-like ears, and the little phantom yipped contentedly. "I trust Sally fed you already?" Jack asked his companion, who bobbed his head in response. "Good. Now where is she?"

Zero pointed his narrow snout towards the stairwell.

"Ah, she's already asleep," interpreted Jack. "Well then, I should be off to bed as well." He ruffled Zero's nonexistent fur one more time before turning off the lamp above the couch in the living room and heading upstairs. "Goodnight, Zero; pleasant dreams!"

Zero yipped again in response and watched his master exit the room. Then he yawned widely, curling up in his fleece dog bed under the grandfather clock, and drifted off to sleep.

Jack reached the top of the spiral staircase and then quietly set foot in the room. To his surprise, Sally was wide awake; the fireplace behind the headstand was ablaze and she was sitting on the bed with her back to it reading a book. She glanced up as her boyfriend entered and a look of great relief spread across her face.

"There you are!" she breathed, "I was worried about you! Where have you been?"

"I was in the pumpkin patch," Jack answered, bending down to kiss his lover before making his way to the walk-in closet. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But you could have called me, darling."

"No I couldn't have." Sally reached across to Jack's nightstand and picked up his phone, waving it lightly in the air.

"Oh. Oops," was Jack's only response as he hung his pinstripe suit and tucked it away in the closet. He threw on his pajamas, grumbling under his breath as his nightcap fell off his head onto the ground.

"Are you alright, honey?" Sally asked meekly. "You seem a little frazzled."

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine." Jack's nightcap fell off again, and this time he just cursed and kicked it across the floor.

Sally closed her book. "If you say so…" she said doubtfully. "Well, there's some leftover poached possum in the fridge if you're interested."

"Don't you want it?" asked Jack as he thrust his feet into his slippers.

"No, I already ate," Sally answered, pulling up the covers and turning off her book light. "The rest is for you."

Jack smiled warmly and sat down on the bed next to his girlfriend. He was hungry, but the thought of food sickened him. The harsh words of Anastasia, Chucky, and the harlequin demon were still buzzing furiously in his head. "Thanks, dear. Maybe tomorrow."

Sally said nothing but nodded curtly in response, suddenly looking forlorn. "Jack…there's something I need to tell you," she whispered.

"What is it?" Jack asked anxiously as he turned towards his girlfriend, resting his hand on her shoulder.

Trembling slightly, Sally took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I didn't want to mention this to you tonight, since you already seemed upset, but…I figure the longer I put it off the harder it will be to say."

"Don't worry about it," replied Jack, trying desperately to hide his apprehension. "Say what you want to say, love."

Sally took his skeletal hand in hers and gazed into his wide eye sockets, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Dr. Finklestein was invited to the International Bureau of Mad Scientists' bicentennial exhibition of phenomena in genetic experimentation next month."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Jack, somewhat confused (mostly by the complicated title she had just uttered). "I mean, aren't you proud of him?"

Sally was crying now. "You don't understand, Jack," she choked. "The exhibition is followed by a research project that lasts five years. And it's all the way in a small Halloween Town hole in Bulgaria…and…"

Jack wrapped his arms around the weeping ragdoll, patting her back soothingly. "It'll be okay, sweetie," he reassured her. "He'll be back before you know it. It's not like you two ever got along very well anyways."

"No, it won't be okay!" Sally suddenly pulled away from Jack's loving embrace, leaving him concerned and taken aback. "It won't be okay because…" She shuddered again, and then whispered in a voice barely audible, "…he's taking me with him."


	6. Sultry Sable

**Author's Note: **

Special thanks to St. Jack of Randomness for the kind reviews! It is much appreciated!

"_The soul would have no rainbow had the eye no tears."_

_- John Vance Cheney_

Stunned and speechless, Jack said nothing but continued to hold his sobbing ragdoll. He wanted to speak, but no words could surpass the painful lump in his throat.

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry!" Sally wailed into his chest. The two lovers tightened their embrace as a strong gust of wind whipped past the shutters and through the room, dousing the candles on the windowsill.

"It's not your fault, Sally," Jack finally managed to croak. "Besides…you really don't _have _to go if you don't want to…right?"

"Technically, I do," sniffed Sally as she dabbed her eyes with the bed sheet. "Dr. Finklestein has a twenty-five-year legal custody warrant. He created me only twenty years back, which means I belong to him for five more – just enough for the duration of the research project in Bulgaria."

Jack stiffened. "But I'm the king, so I could very easily veto that warrant."

"Trust me, Jack, you really don't want to get into all of that," warned Sally. "The case would most likely be brought to court and you could be overthrown. It's too risky and would cause a lot of upheaval in town."

"Well, let me just talk to the doctor, then!" asserted Jack as he jumped out of bed, a teary-eyed Sally looking up at him.

"Believe me, and I've tried hard, Dr. Finklestein's not an easy fellow to convince." Sally sighed miserably, burying her face in a red velvet pillow.

Another chilly autumn wind brushed through the open window; Jack walked across the room and closed the shutters. His shoulders slumped as he rested his skeletal hands on the windowsill, gazing out into the night sky. "When are you leaving?" he asked quietly.

Another silver tear rolled down Sally's cheek and splashed onto the bedspread. "In four days. The morning after your party."

Jack simply nodded, turning around to face his girlfriend. "Not to worry, dear Sally," he spoke softly, a weak smile spreading across his face. "Five years, or five hundred years…I'll be here waiting for you, loving you just the same with every day that passes, until we meet again."

Then the two of them embraced once again, kissing, cuddling and weeping into the night.

_**Meanwhile…**_

"So dude, what's with your friend Billy?" asked Shock as she despondently swept the bug-laden floor of Oogie's Domain.

"What about him?" echoed Lock's voice from across the room. He was wiping down the Wheel of Torture with Windex and a filthy rag, his tail flicking back and forth to a blues song coming from the boom box by the elevator.

Shock scoffed and nearly dropped her broom. "He's been hella creepin' lately!" She stopped sweeping for a moment and took a sip of a homemade margarita. "The last time you had me buy weed from him he practically followed me home. And yesterday he randomly texted me, saying next time he'd throw in another dime if I 'give him a little something special in return.'"

Lock immediately halted his task. "Was that a serious offer?"

"Ugh," gagged Shock as she shot him a look of disgust. "You hardcore stoners will do anything for a dime of weed."

Lock rolled his eyes and resumed cleaning. "Come on, give Billy a break. The kid's eyes are sewn shut! The only reason he's pursuing you is because you're a young female – at least I think you're a female – who likes his weed. You want him to leave you alone? Pop those stitches holding his eyelids together and let him get a good look at your face."

Tossing her broom and margarita glass aside, Shock growled ferociously and took off after the snickering devil boy. "I'm gonna get you, Ginger!" she shouted as she chased Lock in circles around Oogie's pool table.

"Not a chance, Pinocchio!" Lock dashed onto the revolving portion of the floor that surrounded a pool of bright yellow acid. He stepped on a spider-shaped button next to a hidden springboard, catapulting himself onto the mincer.

Shock skidded to a halt at the acid bath over which Lock hovered on the claw machine. She snarled in aggravation, glaring up at her playmate as he did a cheesy victory dance on the mincer's outstretched blades.

"If you think you've gotten away that easily…" Shock started to say, but trailed off as soon as she spotted Lock's fallen pack of cigarettes on the ground. She bent down and picked them up, waving them teasingly in the air. "Hey Lock, looks like you dropped something!"

Lock's eyes widened and he stopped dancing immediately. "Hey! You little bitch! Give those back right now!"

"Fat chance, Ginger!" cackled Shock as she darted towards the elevator, taking a cigarette from the pack and attempting to light it.

Looking around frantically for an easy way down, Lock shook his tiny fists in frustration. But it was too late; Shock was already puffing blissfully away at the cigarette, winking deviously from the elevator as she rose into the tree house above.

Lock cursed and pulled the lever at his heel, gradually lowering the mincer to ground-level. He hopped off and stalked angrily towards the descending, now-vacant elevator. "Laugh it up, Pinocchio," he said under his breath as he climbed inside. "You want to play like that? Fine, just wait until Jack's party this weekend…just you wait…"

He exited the casino.


	7. Sticky Toffee

**Author's Note: **

Special thanks to Das Lieblingsfach and St. Jack of Randomness for the reviews! You guys are awesome, and I appreciate your kind words!

"_Never saw off the branch you are on, unless you are being hanged from it."_

_- Stanislaw Lec_

The next three days passed just the same. The townspeople merrily bustled about the streets; almost every conversation in the bars and coffee shops involved positive anticipation for Jack's Labor Day celebration. Incessant chatter filled the air, consisting of sentences such as, "What are you going to wear?" or "I'm gonna get so wasted!" There wasn't a single monster in Halloween Town who wasn't bubbling with excitement.

The eve of the party, there was an awkward quietness between Jack and Sally. They didn't speak much during dinner, and when they did it was only small talk or curt complaints about the Mayor. Neither of them knew how to deal with the fact that Sally would soon be gone, so they didn't dare to mention it. They bade each other goodnight with a quick kiss and then the both of them just lay in bed, silent and unmoving yet awake, their minds turning, for hours.

Dawn crept over the horizon rather late the next morning. The sky was gray and overcast, promising a rain shower. Relieved to have finally finished running around like a headless chicken preparing for the party, Jack decided to reward himself with brunch and a good book at Skully's (he stopped going to Scarebucks in a fervent effort to avoid Anastasia).

He sat alone in a booth inside the café, sipping a mug of bold house roast and rereading "The Fall of the House of Usher." It was his favorite short story, but unlike when he usually read it the haunting, poetic words didn't so much as rouse his soul. His hollow eyes skimmed the pages over and over again but nothing sunk in. He couldn't stop thinking about Sally.

Jack sighed and closed the book. He drained his cup of coffee and sat silently for a few moments, gazing out the window at his black and yellow town. He envied the bliss and jubilance displayed by the passing citizens…he selfishly assumed that none of their minds could ever be distraught.

Letting out yet another despondent sigh, Jack reached into his messenger bag and withdrew an old, wrinkled pack of Black Cat Luxury 100's. He hadn't smoked in over a year; the only time he ever did was when he drank hard alcohol, which he carefully ensured wasn't often. Hesitantly taking one out of the pack, he positioned it between his pointer and middle fingers and shamefully looked at his reflection in the window for a moment. He held it up to his lips and then with his chrome flip-cap lighter, lit the tobacco.

Dimitri, the slimmest and eldest of the four vampire brothers spotted Jack in the coffee shop from outside. A look of concern flashed across his pale face when he saw the cigarette in Jack's hand. He glided around to the front doors and entered the coffee shop, making his way to Jack's booth.

"Good morning, your highness." Dimitri greeted the Pumpkin King with a courteous bow.

Startled out of his daze, Jack glanced up at the vampire before him and bobbed his head awkwardly, embarrassed.

"May I sit down?" asked Dimitri, gesturing at the empty seat across from Jack.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Jack answered as he repositioned himself and delicately tapped the end of his cigarette on the rim of the table's ashtray.

Dimitri sat down and smoothed his robes. He folded his hands professionally and said nothing, visibly fixated on the trail of smoke rising up from Jack's cigarette.

"I promise you, this isn't a regular thing by any means," Jack reassured him in a tone that was painfully guilty.

"Good thing," replied Dimitri, "because it would be simply devastating if our magnificent king's life was cut short by a little poison-filled stick. You're stronger than that, Jack."

Jack looked away, and then took one last drag before putting out his half-burned cigarette in the ashtray. "Thanks for that," he muttered such that Dimitri couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic.

"What's troubling you, sire?" asked the vampire in concern. "I haven't seen you this upset since your parents divorced back in '41."

Jack raised an imaginary eyebrow and stared at the calm, poised being across from him. He huffed, annoyed. "It's always a wonderful thing when we can bring that up out of the blue."

"Forgive me, your majesty," said Dimitri, bowing his head in shame. "I just wanted to make sure everything was alright in your life; considering the fact that your grand celebration is tonight, one would expect you'd look happier."

Jack waved a skeletal hand, exasperated. "I appreciate your concern, Dimitri. But you don't need to worry about me, I promise. Just enjoy this day as well as fine liquor and specialty hors d'oeuvres at the Manor tonight."

Dimitri nodded, still looking slightly worried. "Very well, Sir Jack," he consented, rising from his seat. "Then I shall be off. By the way…oi vey, this is embarrassing, but…Ivan, the youngest of my brothers said that if you ever break if off with Sally you should give him a call."

Utterly confused and slightly afraid, Jack made a face. "What?" he demanded, only to spot the tails of Dimitri's robes escape through the front doors of the coffee shop in a mere second's time. Off to the right, the barista at the register attempted to stifle a laugh.

Jack just sat there, still looking dumbfounded, until eventually he shook it off and glanced at his pack of Black Cats on the table. He scolded himself for even thinking what he was thinking, so he grabbed the pack and stuffed it deep into his messenger back. Resigning himself to an interesting day, he slung his bag over his shoulder, bade the Skully's baristas goodbye and exited the coffee shop.

From a dimly-lit booth in the far corner of the store, Anastasia watched him.


	8. Spiced Cider

"_Drink and dance and laugh and lie, _

_Love, the reeling midnight through,_

_For tomorrow we shall die! (But alas, we never do.)"_

_- Dorothy Parker_

"Ugh, are you ready yet?" Lock called impatiently up the stairs.

"I'll be there in a minute!" shouted Shock from behind her closed bedroom door.

"Women." Lock rolled his eyes and turned to face Barrel and Oogie Boogie, who were both sitting quietly on the living room sofa with their arms crossed. Barrel was clad in a jet-black tuxedo with a bolo tie; Oogie wore only a gray top hat and Lock sported a red blazer with matching slacks.

"Let's just leave without her," suggested Barrel, annoyed.

Lock sighed and joined his friends on the sofa. "I'd love to, but before showing an ounce of mercy she would truly kill us all."

"Smart boy," Shock's voice sounded from the top of the staircase. She was wearing a sleek black two-tone dress; the bottom half was composed of form-fitting nylon and the top was made of wiry mesh that looked like spider webs.

"Well if it isn't the Labor Day Hooker!" Lock sniggered as he turned around and spotted his playmate descending the stairs.

Shock's eyes narrowed. "Stop drinking Haterade," she said as she grabbed her evening purse off of the coffee table.

With a considerable effort, Oogie rose to his feet and faced the three children. "Alright then, are we ready to go? It's almost seven; Jack's party starts in fifteen minutes."

"Got the booze?" inquired Barrel.

"Yes," Oogie answered as he held up a velvet sack. "It's a bottle of Sky Bat vodka."

"Excellent." Barrel winked and made a thumbs-up sign.

"Okay, party people," breathed Shock rather unenthusiastically. "Let's do this shit."

The four ghouls headed towards the door, double-checking to make sure the lights were turned off upstairs and all candles had been doused. They stepped onto the front porch and Oogie locked the door behind them before leading the way across the rickety bridge to the mainland. The harvest moon was high in the night sky, beautiful and haunting as it cast a creamy blanket of light across the graveyard. Although inside the four creatures were teeming with excitement, they walked slowly, solemnly and silently along the cobblestone path like wayfaring strangers.

All of a sudden, something dropped from Lock's pocket and fell on the ground. It looked like a prescription medicine bottle. He immediately halted his stride and bent down to pick it up, scrambling to shove it back in his slacks.

"What was that?" inquired Shock suspiciously.

Refusing to make eye contact, Lock resumed walking and replied in an unreadable tone, "It was nothing."

Shock was unconvinced. "Look dude, shrooms and weed are fun but I won't let you start abusing medication."

"It's not medication!" Lock shouted back defensively.

"What is it, then? Cocaine? Ecstasy? You'd better be careful, man. I'm pretty sure Jack wouldn't allow hard shit like that in his house either."

Lock threw his arms in the air. "Can we just drop it?" he pleaded. "I promise; it's not cocaine or ecstasy or acid or even prescription medication. It's just…a gift for a friend."

Tired of arguing, Shock accepted his claim. "Alright, alright," she grumbled, rolling her eyes and waving him off. "Don't get your shorts all up in a knot."

They made their way across the graveyard and through the pumpkin patch until finally they reached the gated entryway into town. Oogie punched his pass-code into the keypad off to the right, and with an eerie, rusted squeaking noise the gates swung open. As they proceeded into the Town Square, they found themselves suddenly mired in a traveling herd of elegantly dressed party-goers. None of the four troublemakers were patient in large crowds, so they grew frustrated very quickly and even began shoving people aside.

At last they reached the gates of Skellington Manor. Behemoth was the employed bouncer, and as Lock, Shock, Barrel and Oogie prepared to enter he printed a spider-shaped stamp on their knuckles.

"Have good times," grunted Behemoth monotonously as he propped open the gates, allowing them to proceed onto the steps leading up to Jack's house.

Barrel was the first inside the house, followed by Lock, Shock, and finally Oogie bringing up the rear of their parade. The scene before them was delightful and extraordinary; beautiful autumn-inspired tapestries covered the walls, and guests sat and conversed upon gothic furnishings. Off to their right was the kitchen, in which several ghouls were sampling hors d'oeuvres from an extensive buffet laid out on the table while a few others assembled fruit cocktails at the mini bar. Altogether the celebration was lavish, classical and alive with the undead.

"I see booze!" exclaimed Barrel, pointing towards the kitchen. He scurried off in the direction of the mini bar.

Lock chuckled at his overly-enthused playmate. "Oh, how Barrel loves his booze. He might as well marry the damn stuff."

"Yeah," Shock agreed, her lips curving into a half-grin.

"Want me to grab you a drink?" offered Lock.

Shock's eyes narrowed, but then she shrugged. "Yeah, sure I guess."

"What would you like?"

"Do you know how to make a White Russian?"

"I think so. It's just vodka, Kahlúa and cream, right?"

"Correct."

"Coming right up." Lock started towards the mini bar, but then paused and looked over his shoulder. "Anything for you, Oogie?"

"I'll just have a beer," answered the burlap sack. "Ghosthead Lager, if you will."

Lock nodded and headed into the kitchen. Shock and Oogie stood awkwardly for a few moments, twiddling their thumbs and making idle commentary to no one in particular. Then a pleasant voice greeted them from behind.

"Shock! Oogie! I'm glad you could make it." The voice belonged to Jack, who approached them from the direction of the living room. He was stylishly clad in a red sangria tux, ivory dancing shoes and a paisley ascot tie. A glass of sparkling champagne rested in his palm.

"Good evening, Jack," Oogie saluted, politely tipping his hat to the host.

"Sup," said Shock gruffly.

Jack raised a nonexistent eyebrow and then shook his head slightly. "Anyways," he continued cheerfully, "make yourselves at home. We've got a full bar and a plethora of homemade hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen. After you fix yourself something nice feel free to visit with the other guests in the living room, or there's a pool table and a dance floor upstairs if you want to check that out as well."

"Splendid," said Oogie, straightening up. "My boy Lock's grabbing me a drink and then I'll probably head upstairs to play pool." He paused for a moment, and then leaned in closer to Jack. "Listen, about that…" he whispered, "Hustling's aloud, right?"

"As long as I don't find out about it," Jack replied sarcastically before starting back towards the living room. "Happy Labor Day, gentlemen!"

"I'm a girl!" Shock yelled out after him, but he was already out of earshot. She crossed her arms and scowled. "Is it really that hard to tell?"

Oogie stared at her for a second then pretended to check the time on his wrist. "I better go check on those drinks," he said before shuffling away into the kitchen.

Shock just rolled her eyes and followed him.


	9. Rosewood

**Author's Note: **

Special thanks to Das Lieblingsfach and St. Jack of Randomness for reviewing thus far! If you're a loyal follower of this quirky tale, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

"_Never explain. Your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe it anyway."_

_- Elbert Hubbard_

Lock stood pensively as his narrowed eyes scanned the surplus of alcohol before him. His tail flicked back and forth and he raised a finger to his chin; he couldn't decide if he wanted to start his night with an ice cold beer, a class of expensive liqueur, or just skip right to the hard stuff. A bottle of pumpkin scotch caught his eye and he shrugged, lifting it off of the shelf and pouring some of the golden-amber liquid into a champagne flute.

"Ah," he breathed contentedly after taking a sip. Upon turning around he spotted Shock and Oogie talking with Stephen the werewolf next to the buffet table, and his mind immediately flashed back to the medicine bottle in his pocket. "Oh, yeah!" he thought aloud. "It's payback time for that big-nosed bitch."

He returned to the liquor shelf excitedly in search of a bottle of vodka and Kahlúa. With fervent effort he finally spotted them and snatched them off the shelf, combining their contents in a crystal glass. He grabbed some cream out of Jack's fridge and added a small amount to the beverage before reaching into his suit pocket to withdraw the medicine bottle. He snickered as he turned the bottle over in his palm. Grinning devilishly, he quickly unscrewed the cap and dropped a single pill into the drink, stirring the solution vigorously.

"I hope Shock likes roofies!" Lock cackled before turning back around, his scotch in one hand and the spiked drink in the other, and heading over towards his cohorts at the buffet table.

Shock was nibbling on a piece of multi-colored cheese, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I don't understand how people can actually enjoy eating this fancy imported crap," she commented to Barrel who was approaching from the other side of the kitchen. They both looked up and spotted Lock heading towards them.

"Hey, sexy!" Barrel shouted across the room at an inappropriate volume, an emptied shot glass in hand.

Lock raised his eyebrow questioningly but then decided to ignore his already-tipsy companion and handed Shock the White Russian.

"Geeze, took you long enough!" Shock took the drink from the devil-boy, who was still grinning. She eyed him suspiciously. "What are you so happy about? Been poppin' the Jagerbombs already?

Usually her condescending, ungrateful attitude would have prompted a heated retort from Lock, but he knew when Shock passed out in front of everybody after one drink and became the laughing stock of the town for the next month, that would be payback enough. He continued to smile pleasantly at his companion.

"Yep, I think you have," she snorted and raised the glass to her lips. Suddenly, and to Lock's irritation, Stephen Wolfe whipped around and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Is that a White Russian?" he barked curiously. "I've heard good things about them, but I've never tried one myself."

"Sure is," said Shock, handing him the glass. "Want to try some?"

"No!" Lock shouted all of a sudden.

Both Shock and Stephen stared at him warily.

"What's your problem, weirdo?" asked Shock, her palms facing outwards.

Desperate for a cover-up, Lock glanced frantically around the room. "Um…it's just…" he stuttered awkwardly. "White Russians are really bad for werewolves!"

Stephen's ear flickered and he cocked his head to one side. "They are? How come?"

"Because…they have chocolate in them, and chocolate is poisonous to canines."

"They do not!" replied Shock incredulously. "You're full of shit, dude."

"Yes they do!" Lock shouted defensively. "And…they give you the runs."

"What!"

"Do they really?"

"Yes, and bad."

"Alright, dude, get out of here." Shock snatched the champagne flute out of Lock's hand. "I think you've had one too many of these. Go drink some water and sit quietly in that corner over there."

Lock started to panic as Shock pushed him out of the kitchen. "No, wait!" he protested, attempting to shake her off. She only tightened her grip on his shoulders and continued to drive him into the living room.

Shock spotted Behemoth (the employed bouncer) taking a fifteen-minute break next to the fireplace. "Will you give me a hand here, Behemoth?" she called. "I need you to keep Lock out of the kitchen. He's pretty wasted and I don't want him going near the rest of the alcohol."

Behemoth nodded and stood up, snatching Lock by the tail.

"Ow! Easy there, Frankenstein!" Lock hissed, still struggling against the two demons. Shock finally released him, but Behemoth kept a tight grip on his tail and started to drag him towards the stairs.

Lock cursed his luck and craned his neck back, watching Shock retreat to the kitchen as Behemoth hauled him forward. Over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of Stephen bringing the glass of White Russian to his lips.


	10. Matte Cerise

**Author's Note: **

Much thanks to BJXCBFOREVER, Elphiegirl42, Das Lieblingsfach and St. Jack of Randomness for reviewing so far! All your guys' thoughts are appreciated. If you like (or per chance don't like) something, let me know!

"_If you're going through hell, keep going."_

_- Winston Churchill_

"Bob! Darla! Welcome!" Jack dashed over to the front door as the corpse couple entered and shook their hands in greeting. Just then a small, plump figure with pasty skin and eyes that were sewn shut wriggled between the two guests, holding a sack of something Jack couldn't quite identify (though he had a pretty good guess as to what it was). "And I see you brought Billy."

"Hiya, Jack!" the corpse child shouted up at him, waving enthusiastically.

"Hello there, Billy," replied Jack, bending down. "What 'cha got there?"

Billy quickly stuffed the bag into his suit pocket, chuckling innocently. "Oh, it's nothing. Just…some basil!"

Straightening up, Jack crossed his arms skeptically. "I can assure you, we have plenty of basil here. What did you need it for, anyways?"

"Uh…" Billy stuttered, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Gimme a minute."

Jack shook his head. "Tsk tsk, son." He turned to face Billy's parents who both stood with their hands behind their backs, pretending to look oblivious. "You're both aware that marijuana is illegal, right?"

Darla's eyes lit up in phony confusion. "Is it really?"

Jack sighed out loud, and then took a sip of champagne. He gestured towards the living room. "Have a good time."

"All right!" Billy waved his stubby arms in the air and scurried into the scene. He accidentally dropped his sack by Harley Quinn's feet, who peered down at it curiously. "My bad," squeaked Billy, quickly snatching it up before he disappeared behind a large velvet armchair.

"Lock's upstairs, in case you were wondering!" Jack called out after him. "Good Lord." He took another swig of his drink. "This is going to be a long night."

Suddenly the front door opened again, and Dimitri the vampire stepped inside, throwing his cape over his face dramatically. "We have arrived!" he announced in a Transylvanian accent into the dwelling. His three brothers, Maksim, Vladimir and Ivan appeared in a sea of black robes behind him.

Jack choked on his drink the moment he spotted the round vampire next to Maksim, immediately recalling Dimitri's last words in the coffee shop that morning. "Oh, Guh-hod," he coughed into his sleeve.

"Ah, your Highness!" Dimitri called as he glided over to Jack, extending his hand. "Thank you so much for the invitation. We are so honored to join together with you tonight in celebration of this holiday."

"Yeah, yeah, fine, fine," Jack croaked as he pulled out a handkerchief, continuing to gag.

Dimitri laid an icy hand on his shoulder in concern. "Are you alright, sire? Did you have a little too much to drink already?"

"I'll get a trashcan," offered Maksim.

"I'm not throwing up!" Jack shouted at the vampires. They flinched, bemused and taken aback. "I'm sorry," Jack said as he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief. "I'm okay now. I hope I haven't too rudely offended you; please, do come in."

He stepped aside allowing the four ghouls to glide past him. They marveled at the extravagant scene before them, stroking the antique furniture, bowing to fellow partygoers and exchanging idle commentary. Ivan (the largest vampire) glanced over his shoulder as the group progressed towards the kitchen. He spotted Jack watching them and blushed a deep scarlet, immediately turning away.

Jack noticed this and shuddered violently, downing the last of his champagne. He set his glass down on the coffee table in the living room. Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he whipped around, startled. To his great relief it was Sally, who was wearing a little black cocktail dress with a frayed hemline resting just above her knees. She smiled warmly at him, an empty wine glass in her hand.

"Looks like we both could use refills," she chuckled, eyeing Jack's champagne flute on the coffee table.

"Oh Sally, you don't know how happy I am to see you," breathed Jack, lifting her free hand and kissing it gently. "You look absolutely beautiful. I can't believe you're all mine."

"Are you kidding? I'm the lucky one!" she replied, leading him into the kitchen. "Do you know how many monsters in this town would give their lives to date the Pumpkin King?"

"Nah, they're just after me for the money," said Jack, waving his hand. They stopped walking when they reached the mini bar.

"What would you like? More champagne?" offered Sally as she reached for a bottle of merlot for herself. She popped the cork and carefully filled her glass with the deep burgundy liquid.

Jack stood for a moment, stroking his chin. "Hmm…" He pondered his options. They had stocked up on every possible fermented solution imaginable, from vodka, to rum, wine, champagne, scotch, and even golden brandy…

"Um, Jack?" a high-pitched, accented voice sounded from Jack's left. Sucking in his cheeks, Jack slowly turned around to face none other than Ivan, the youngest vampire, who was gazing up at him timidly with a margarita in hand.

"Oh, hello there, Ivan," replied Jack, struggling to mask the apprehension in his voice.

Ivan blushed again, almost too obviously. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm pretty sure Billy and Lock are smoking weed in the upstairs bathroom…I was passing by and I think I got second-hand high off the fumes."

"Ugh, of course they are," Jack muttered dryly. He rubbed the back of his neck, exasperated. "Well, thanks for letting me know. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks," said Ivan, who nervously traced the rim of his margarita glass. "I'm not a big fan of the cannabis. Also, I take delight in the fact that unlike a lot of other parties I've been to lately, you don't have stripping women."

Jack heard Sally giggle behind him. "Well, thanks…I guess," he said. "Now go and enjoy the party, I promise that I'll handle the troublemakers upstairs."

Ivan nodded, grinning. "You're the man, Jack," he saluted the king and started towards the living room. Suddenly, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder, adding hesitantly, "By the way…you look good."

Jack buried his face in his palms as Sally giggled again (though harder, this time). "I say it again, they're just in it for the money!" he shouted defensively through his boney fingers.

The ragdoll patted her clearly embarrassed boyfriend's polished skull. "I didn't want to be the one to suggest it, but now that you bring it up…was he flirting with you?"

"I don't know, nor would I like to," he mumbled, snatching a bottle of peppermint schnapps out of the liquor shelf. He selected a shot glass from the glimmering array of crystal next to the cabinet and filled it to the brim. He pinched it delicately between his fingers and lifted it high above his head, as if to propose a toast. "Well, Sally…here's to us…and the town of Halloween…and the gays." He drank, his facial features twisting at the sharp burn of the alcohol.

Sally sipped her merlot, shaking her head. "Just be careful, you." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be in the living room. Come by if you get lonely. After all…this is our last night together."

A sudden pang of grief struck deep in the marrow of Jack's bones, and he smiled weakly, taking another shot. "I'll be there in a minute."

Sally nodded and kissed him again, this time on the lips. "You taste like a candy cane," she said wryly before flashing a flirtatious wink and heading back towards the living room.

Jack watched her go, cringing as another wave of melancholy washed over him. He loved Sally more than anything in the world; when they became a couple it was the first time in many years that he had felt complete. He hated Dr. Finklestein for taking her away from him. A dejected sigh escaped him as he poured another shot of schnapps.


	11. Heather Moon

**Author's Note: **

Thanks to Flash37, ThinkChimerical, BJXCBFOREVER, Elphiegirl42, Das Lieblingsfach and St. Jack of Randomness for reviewing so far! I really appreciate your kind thoughts.

"_Stay busy, get plenty of exercise, and don't drink too much. Then again, don't drink too little."_

_- Herman Smith-Johanssen_

"I said you could _try_ it, not _have_ it," said Shock as she took her drink back from Stephen Wolfe who was licking his furry lips contentedly.

"I'm sorry," Stephen barked. "That's really good! I think I'm gonna make myself one of those."

"You owe me half of yours, then!" Shock called out to him as he migrated towards the mini bar. She peered down at her near-empty glass and swirled the contents around, slightly annoyed. "They always say, 'Can I have just one sip?' and then you're left with two drops. It's a beautiful thing." She sighed and continued grumbling to herself as she made her way into the living room. "Now what happened to Lock and Barrel?" Weaving her way through the palavering crowd was no easy task, but eventually she reached the opposite side of the room and the bottom of the stairwell. She paused and took a small sip of her drink. "Ugh, this is disgusting! Did Lock even put any alcohol in here or is it all cream and sugar?"

"I heard that!" sounded a voice from the top of the stairs. Lock was slouching against the wall, his eyes bloodshot and the sides of his lips pulled up into a cheesy grin. Billy the corpse child appeared behind him, looking equally fried.

Shock rolled her eyes. "You're stoned, aren't you?"

"Out of my mind," he replied.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were doing? Since you made me basically the worst drink in the history of Halloween, the least you could do is give me some other form of intoxication."

Lock laughed out loud, finishing with a snort. "Look, man…I'm sorry…" He started to descend the staircase, slowly and clumsily, clutching the handrail. Billy fell to the ground in a fit of giggles, which only caused Lock to forget what he was doing and start chortling as well.

"I don't have time for this shit. I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette," Shock muttered bitterly. She turned around and worked her way once again through the mingling guests to the other side of the room and set her glass down on the coffee table. She withdrew a cigarette from her purse and opened the front door, stepping out onto the small balcony.

Oogie was outside smoking and conversing with Archie Eyechinhofer, the gangly, fur-covered Cyclops. The two of them spotted Shock shutting the door behind her and nodded curtly in greeting; Shock did the same.

"Do either of you two have a light?" she asked of the monsters, her cigarette dangling somewhat distastefully out the side of her mouth.

"I got'cha covered," said Archie, striking a match and carefully lighting the tip of Shock's tobacco.

"Thanks, man." Shock inhaled and held the smoke for a few moments, savoring the nicotine buzz. At last she dispelled it in the form of smoke rings which swirled and disintegrated into the wind.

"Hey, where'd you get that?" inquired Oogie, raising a nonexistent eyebrow. "I haven't bought you any cigarettes in five days. Did you find another provider who's willing to put up with your crap?"

Shock tapped her cigarette on the balcony rail, sending the ashes flying. "Lock gave this to me," she said coolly.

"What do you smoke?" Archie piped up, taking a drag off his own cigarette.

"Snarlboro Red's," Shock stated flatly.

"Hmm," replied Archie. "That's the hard stuff. I'm a fan of Haunted Spirit menthols, myself."

Shock grunted in response, growing disinterested. She just wanted to hurry up and start drinking so she could beat Barrel's ass in beer pong.

As if Oogie read her mind, he suddenly asked, "Hey, where's your drink? Did you finish it already?"

"Not even. It was the worst White Russian I've ever tasted in all my twelve years of existing."

To her surprise, Oogie's features softened and he chuckled. "Yeah, I have to admit that Lock would make a horrible bartender. I asked for Ghosthead Lager and he brought me Bloodlite." He shook his head, smashing his empty beer can against the side of Jack's house. "Do I look like a vampire to you?"

"That would have been my third guess," croaked Archie nonchalantly, rubbing his single eye.

Oogie flashed the Cyclops a half-smile and then looked at Shock, who merely shrugged.

The three of them stood silently for several minutes, puffing on their cigarettes and casually swaying to the grand orchestral tunes coming from inside the house (except for Shock, who hated classical music).

After finishing his cigarette, Archie smashed the butt in an ashtray sitting on the balcony railing. He turned to Shock. "So, Miss Dionowitch…how's school going this year? You're in the seventh grade, correct?"

Shock grunted resentfully. "Hardly. I haven't been to class in like three weeks. I hate school."

"Why?" Archie looked poignant. "Learning is awesome. If I could, I would be a perpetual student…but alas, my scholastic days are long over. Now I just spend my afternoons in the library reading up on endocrinology."

Shock stared at him sourly, and a few moments later she bluntly stated, "I don't like you."

Archie's mouth fell open, and he placed his hands on his hips looking greatly offended. "Well!"

"That's all you've got to say; 'well?'" Shock challenged, flicking her cigarette butt off the balcony.

"Hey, take it easy, you guys!" said Oogie as he raised a burlap arm in between them.

"I don't know what you've done to this child, Oogie," accused Archie. "Pulling mediocre pranks on everyone is one thing, but she's the kind of riff raff this town could do well without."

"Mediocre?" Shock boomed furiously. She took a step forward and made a fist with one hand, smashing it threateningly into the palm of the other. "Why don't I just…" she started to speak but then quickly trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of nausea.

Archie raised his single eyebrow. "What's the matter? Think you can take me on?"

Bending over slightly, Shock gagged, tasting bile. "Oh, believe me I can pound you to dust," she croaked. "But first…I need to go puke."

Leaving Archie and Oogie looking thoroughly confused on the balcony, Shock darted back through the front doors and shoved her way past dozens of party guests, spilling some of their drinks in the process. They scolded her angrily but she paid no attention; her steadfast focus was finding the bathroom. Her stomach lurched and she gagged again. "Bathroom!" she shouted frantically.

"Down the hall and to the left!" Jack's voice randomly sounded from the kitchen.

Grateful but unable to respond, Shock exited the living room and dashed madly down the hallway until she arrived at her destination. She stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind her before collapsing to her knees in front of the toilet. Firmly grasping the rim of the ceramic basin, she gave one more sickening gag before finally vomiting into the bathwater.

The first three waves were foul and acidic, and by the fourth Shock was dry heaving. "Ugh!" she moaned disgustedly in between bouts. "I'm not even drunk! Why is this happening to me?"

At last she was finished, and the exhausted little witch slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. She flushed the toilet several times before attempting to rise, but as soon as she did she was consumed once again by bitter nausea. "Come on!" she pouted and returned to the toilet bowl. Groaning in agony, she mumbled dejectedly to herself, "This is going to be one hell of a night."

_**Meanwhile…**_

"Dude, I am _baked_…" Lock sighed contentedly as he sat down next to his friend Billy on the stairwell.

Billy chuckled, stretching his pudgy limbs. "Tell me about it…it's like 4/20 but like, not."

"Hey, so like…wanna go somewhere else?"

"What for?"

"Well, we've been sitting on the staircase for like, ever."

"Good plan," replied Billy. "What a clever friend I have."

Lock flashed him a cheesy grin and then slowly rose to his feet. The two junkies grasped hands, thinking nothing of it except that they were both too stoned to successfully navigate the manor without assistance from one another (which was definitely true). They cautiously descended the staircase, bursting into giggle fits each time one of them almost fell. When they finally reached the bottom they stood still for a moment, hazily pondering their next destination.

All of a sudden, a loud _thud_ sounded from the far end of the hallway. Confused and curious, Lock and Billy scampered clumsily toward the source, repeatedly knocking into each other like ping pong balls. Then out of nowhere a large, furry object appeared on the floor in front of them.

"Whoa…what's that?" whispered Billy, bending over to get a closer look.

Lock poked at the furry object, and gasped when he finally recognized it. "Holy shit, it's Stephen Wolfe!"

"The werewolf?"

"No, stupid, the astronaut."

Billy scowled and crossed his arms. "Well then, Mister Wise Cracker, what do you reckon he's doing on the floor? Is he dead?"

Lock gulped nervously. He decided he needed another hit, a drink and a cigarette before continuing.

"Or maybe," chuckled Billy. "He was roofied, eh?"

Lock didn't say a word but slowly and stiffly turned to his friend, looking petrified.

Failing to comprehend Lock's silent message, Billy muttered, "What's your problem?"

"It was me. I roofied him." Lock returned his gaze to the unconscious werewolf at his feet.

"What? Why the hell would you do that?" shouted Billy, thoroughly perplexed.

"Shh!" Lock hissed as he placed his hand over Billy's mouth. "Don't tell anyone! I meant to roofie Shock, but I guess she gave her entire drink to Stephen and well…here he is."

Billy pulled away, scrutinizing the devil-boy. Then a single-toothed grin spread across his pasty cheeks, and he sniggered quietly. "Oh, I see what you were trying to do. Man, even I would think to stoop that low!" He patted Lock's shoulder, but then his face hardened. "Nice try. But I already told you, Shock's mine."

Lock's cheeks flooded with heat, and he scoffed, wrinkling his nose. "Ew, sicko! I don't want to bang Shock, what kind of desperado do you take me for?"

"What ever you say," Billy smirked. "But I'm watchin' you, mister."

Lock rolled his eyes. "Never mind that. What are we going to do about Stephen?"

Billy tapped his chin for a moment, racking his fried brain for ideas. "I've got it," he said finally. "Let's dump the wolf's body in Christmas town."

"You mean drag his unconscious ass all the way out to the Hinterlands? I don't think so."

"Then how about we stuff him in that closet?"

Lock whipped around and spotted a door with a brass handle across from the bathroom (where Shock was still violently retching). "Good idea. Let's do it."

The children grabbed Stephen by his suit collar and dragged him across the hardwood floor until they reached the door. Billy turned the brass knob and the closet creaked open, unfortunately yielding little room. With considerable effort they stuffed the comatose Stephen inside and shut the door tight, letting out a sigh of relief when the deed was done.

At the far end of the hallway, a pair of bright yellow eyes watched the children intently while a scaly, glimmering tailfin flickered below in the darkness.


	12. Bordeaux

**Author's Note: **

Much thanks to Anne Oying, Lady Halloween, Flash37, ThinkChimerical, BJXCBFOREVER, Elphiegirl42, Das Lieblingsfach and St. Jack of Randomness for reviewing so far! You guys are very kind and you encourage me to write faster. ;)

"_I tell you this, and I tell you plain:_

_What you have done, you will do again;_

_You will bite your tongue, careful or not,_

_Upon the already-bitten spot."_

_- Mignon McLaughlin_

"…And then the young witch says, 'can I have the keys to the broomstick tonight?'"

The circle of ghouls burst out laughing as a rather inebriated Jack finished telling his third corniest joke of the evening.

"Oh man, that is the best!" said Harley Quinn as he finished his cocktail and stumbled backwards, nearly smashing into the grandfather clock.

"You know it!" added Chucky McClown.

"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week." Jack attempted to bow but he lost his balance and ended up doing a somersault into the center of the living room. He landed hard on his back and winced slightly before erupting into another fit of boisterous cackling. This went on for several minutes before he noticed Sally standing over him, looking amused.

"Need some help?" she said, extending her small hand.

"Thank you Sally dearest," replied Jack, gazing up at his girlfriend with a silly grin spread across his face. Then he cocked his head to one side in confusion. "Say…you didn't tell me you had a twin!"

Sally rolled her eyes and reached down to grab his hands (since he kept missing when he tried to grab hers). "Alright, mister," she groaned as she struggled to help the meandering skeleton to his feet. "I think you've had more than enough to drink this evening."

Faltering slightly, Jack took hold of Sally's shoulders to steady himself. "You're right," he chuckled, still grinning foolishly. He patted her head and suddenly his facial expression changed. Leaning in closer, Jack twirled a strand of Sally's red hair and whispered seductively in her ear, "Maybe you should take me home."

Though she couldn't help but giggle at her boyfriend's absurdity, Sally pushed him away. "We _are_ at home, weirdo."

Jack's features softened and he snorted, resting his head on Sally's shoulder. Several party guests gathered around them, attempting to stifle laughter while exchanging glances of bemusement. Mel, the melting man withdrew his cell phone and snapped a photo much to Sally's displeasure.

Jack shifted slightly though remained slumped against his girlfriend. "I need a cigarette," he groaned dejectedly.

"No you don't," Sally replied as she led him over to the living room sofa.

The two lovers sat down (well, Jack kind of _fell_ down) on the antique sofa facing the fireplace, and Sally removed all unclaimed drinks from the coffee table. She sighed and turned to face Jack, who was swaying back and forth and mumbling about corn to no one in particular. Off to their left the grandfather clock struck ten-thirty; the night was far from over.

"Are you alright?" Sally asked nervously as she noticed Jack starting to lean forward.

Jack shook his head. "I think I'm going to vomit."

Before his girlfriend could even respond, Jack leapt to his feet and dashed out of the living room, covering his mouth with his hands. He stumbled awkwardly down the hallway and managed to locate the bathroom door just as he began to cough and sputter. He yanked the silver handle but for some reason the door would not budge.

"Occupied!" a voice sounded from within.

"I need to hurl!" Jack shouted back, his gag reflex tugging at the back of his throat.

The toilet flushed inside the bathroom and then the voice replied, "I'm already puking in here! Use another bathroom; I'm sure there are plenty in this house."

Jack moaned in both discomfort and desperation. The next closest bathroom was up one floor in the guest quarters. Through his blurred vision and gripping nausea, he started off in the direction of the stairs, shuffling as quickly as his drunken legs would allow…but he didn't make it. He grabbed a withered poinsettia plant from the china shelf, expelling into it a shower of peppermint vomit.

"Eww…" he muttered in disgust after it was over. "Oh well. Poinsettias are out of season anyways."

Suddenly Sally appeared behind him, looking concerned. She spotted the vomit-covered poinsettia in Jack's hands and made a face. "Nice."

"I know, my bad," Jack apologized, wiping his mouth. "Someone's already throwing up in the bathroom; I could have either done it in this or all over the floor."

Sally patted his shoulder in sympathy, and then she linked arms with him. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs. With the amount you drank, you'll probably throw up again, so why don't you lie down in the guest quarters and I'll fix you some dry toast."

Jack nodded, his head still buzzing from the alcohol. "You know, it's not fair," he whined as Sally started leading him back down the hall. "I'm a skeleton, yet I can still vomit. It doesn't make any sense."

Sally chuckled as she set foot on the stairs. "This is Halloween Town, nothing makes sense. I can vomit too and I'm stuffed with leaves."

"True. I guess there's a reason they skipped out on teaching biology altogether in high school. I recall the academic advisors explaining that there's no use trying to understand the way it works in our world; they figure it's easier if we all just 'accept it.'"

Smiling warmly at her companion, Sally helped Jack up the winding staircase until they reached the second floor, also known as the guest quarters. An extensive, dimly-lit corridor stretched out before them consisting of several vacant suites, a kitchenette, and a common lavatory. Sally led her faltering boyfriend into the suite closest to the bathroom. She turned on the desk lamp across the room and then proceeded to prepare the queen-sized bed, fluffing the goose down pillow and tucking in loose sheets.

"Thanks, love," Jack said as he climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up high and sighing contently. "You know…" he added with a twinge of melancholy in his voice, "I'm really going to miss you."

Sally's heart sank with the weight of a bowling ball, and she smiled weakly. "Me too," she whispered, and then she bent down to kiss Jack's forehead.

"But we'll see each other again soon. Maybe I can visit you at some point, you know, leave the Mayor in charge for a weekend."

"You know that never works."

"I guess you're right. I left town for an afternoon once and he posted 'Missing Person' flyers all over town."

Sally giggled and closed the curtains over the window located behind the headstand. She then stood up and grabbed the trash can from the other side of the room, setting it down beside the bed. "Well, I better go get you that toast," she sighed, stroking Jack's boney cheek. "Will you be okay up here all by yourself?"

"I'll be just fine," Jack replied, running his fingers through the ragdoll's soft amber hair. "Thanks again for taking such good care of me. I'll try not to overdo it like this while you're in Bulgaria."

"Oh, but when I come back?" Sally accused sarcastically, putting her hands on her hips. "No, it's alright darling. Try to sleep it off; I'll return in a moment with the toast and a glass of water."

With that, she stood up and brushed off her dress, kissing Jack on the forehead again before she left the room to fetch the remedies. Jack smiled as he watched her go, the girl he loved more than Halloween, more than his town, and more than life itself.

_**Meanwhile…**_

Sally reached the bottom of the stairwell. She groaned, rather exasperated, and then began heading back into the living room when the bathroom door down the hallway caught her eye. _Didn't Jack say there was someone else vomiting in there? _She tentatively approached the closed door, giving a few subtle knocks.

"Still occupied!" rasped a rather hoarse voice from inside.

"Are you alright in there?" asked Sally.

She heard the toilet flush. The person inside coughed once and then replied, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright, then," Sally said doubtfully. "Just let me know if you need anything."

The voice didn't respond, so Sally shrugged and turned around, heading back down the hallway. She turned into the living room where the party was still very much alive; it looked like even more guests had arrived since she had disappeared to help Jack. Feeling slightly buzzed herself, Sally retrieved the half-empty glass of red wine she had left on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.

Upon entering, she noticed the buffet table was looking a little sparse. She gathered some of the empty dishes and brought them over to the sink, and proceeded to search the fridge for extras. A tray of watercress sandwiches with a side of jellied brains caught her eye, so she withdrew the two dishes and set them on the table next to an array of foreign cheeses.

Suddenly, a very drunk Barrel approached Sally from the side, tugging on the hem of her dress. "You know," he said, swaying back and forth unsteadily. "Shock thinks your cheese sucks."

Sally raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the cockeyed demon child. "And what makes you think that I care?"

"I forgot." Barrel swung around and awkwardly stumbled out of the kitchen.

Shaking her head in irritation, Sally took a sip of her wine and searched the cabinets for a loaf of bread. "Why do I even bother with those three?" she thought aloud to herself.

Suddenly a shrill cry echoed through the manor just as Sally had popped two slices of bread into the toaster. She dropped her glass of wine in the sink and dashed into the living room where everyone was gathered at the base of the stairwell, looking shocked and confused.

At that moment, Helgamine and Zeldaborne, the witch sisters, came rushing down the stairs with expressions of pure terror plastered to their faces.

"Everyone!" shouted Helgamine as she skidded to a halt on the second-to-last step, waving her broomstick madly in the air, "Dr. Finklestein is dead!"


	13. Pink Chocolate

**Author's Note: **

Thank you everyone for the kind reviews! I really appreciate it! Due to a nasty illness that's kept me from going about my regular busy schedule of college and working two jobs (and of course a wild party here and there…ahem), I've been back home with my parents for the past couple of days, thus giving me a lot of down time to write. So, if things go as planned, I should have the next chapter up by this weekend.

p.s. Thanks to Flash37 for pointing out the actual given names of the witch sisters (**Helgamine** and **Zeldaborne** as opposed to **Jane** and **Svetlana**); since this little detail was caught early enough I have changed their names to the ones given on TNBC merchandise.

"_I like to have a martini_

_Two at the very most._

_After three I'm under the table_

_After four I'm under the host."_

_- Dorothy Parker_

"Dead? But how? Who? Why?" The citizens were frantic. Anxious mutterings swept through the crowd at the bottom of the stairs like wildfire. Some speculated that the Doctor was merely passed out from too much alcohol; others were afraid that a serial killer had broken into the house during the party.

With surprising brute force, Sally shoved her way through the throng of panicking partygoers. She cursed as her dress snagged on someone's claw, but without a second thought she tore herself free and stumbled into the center of the mob where the witch sisters stood flailing their arms hysterically.

"Oh, Sally! Thank God!" shouted Zeldaborne as the weary-looking ragdoll approached them. She immediately threw her arms around Sally's thin frame and started to sob. "I'm so sorry."

Sally pulled away from the witch until they were face-to-face. Then in a soft but serious tone she demanded, "What happened?"

Zelda's sobs thickened. "I…I don't know exactly…the last time anybody saw Dr. Finklestein he was upstairs in the discothèque talking to the Mayor. It wasn't anything serious, they were laughing and they had drinks in their hands, but then…"

Sally shook the witch as she began to trail off. "But then?"

"…Helga and I were dancing when suddenly my heel broke," Zelda continued. "We found some super glue in your supply closet upstairs, but there wasn't enough light in the discothèque so we went up one more floor to your bedroom."

"You went into our _bedroom?_" Sally fumed.

"I'm sorry!" sputtered Zelda, burying her blemish-covered face in her hands. "But you don't understand! That's where we found Dr. Finklestein!"

Sally's eyes widened and the crowd behind her suddenly fell silent. "You found him…in our room?" she whispered.

Zelda nodded, a fresh supply of silver tears tumbling down her cheeks. "Right next to the bed."

The pool of ghouls surrounding them gasped in unison, and several of them began to wail. It wasn't that the citizens of Halloween Town were ever very fond of Dr. Finklestein's character, but he had been the local mad scientist and medical practitioner for decades. He had healed the sick, bandaged the wounded, and executed revolutionary biological feats. And Sally knew especially that even though he had mistreated her throughout the years, she owed him every fiber of her being.

Holding her bawling younger sister tight in her arms, Helgamine turned to face Sally. "You're the closest thing we have to one of his relatives," she said. "You decide what we should do next."

This caught Sally off-guard. She hated being put on the spot, especially when it involved speaking to large groups. It took her a moment to compose herself, but finally she turned towards the sea of desperate faces before her and shouted, "Alright, nobody leave this room! Skellington Manor is officially on lockdown until we figure out what happened. Although I sincerely hope the Doctor's death was an accident, there just might be a killer in our midst."

_**Meanwhile…**_

Shock flushed the toilet for the seventh time, wiping her mouth on the guest towels hanging by the sink. At last she was able to stand without feeling nauseous, so she decided she'd try to find somewhere to go rest for a while before returning to the party. Exhausted and rather winded, the little witch turned on the faucet to wash her hands when suddenly she heard rapid pounding on the door.

"Ugh, for the last time, go find another bathroom!" she snapped. "It reeks of puke in here anyways."

"Shock? Is that you?" It was Lock's voice.

Shock threw open the door. "Hey, Lock," she said tentatively, confused by the fretful look in his eyes.

"Come here," Lock whispered, grabbing her arm and pulling her out into the hallway.

"What, what's your problem?" Shock hissed, yanking her arm back and smoothing her dress.

"It's Dr. Finklestein. Someone's murdered him."

"Are you on crack?"

"No! I'm just a little baked."

"Try super baked."

The devil boy pushed Shock up against the wall, his tail flicking bath and forth anxiously. He gripped her shoulders tightly and spoke in a tone that was so grave and serious that it almost sounded hostile, "I'm not kidding."

Shock stared her playmate straight in the bloodshot eyes. "Prove it."

Without hesitation, Lock took hold of her hand (which although she'd never, ever admit it, caused Shock to blush slightly) and hauled her into the living room where all of the other guests were packed together.

"What's going on here?" asked Shock as she and Lock arrived at the edge of the mob.

"I told you, Dr. Finklestein was killed!" replied Lock, struggling to see past the multitude of hysterical demons.

Suddenly the Mayor, who also stood at the crowd's border trying to get a better view whipped around upon hearing Lock's declaration. "We don't know that for sure," he said, wringing his extremely tall top hat in his hands. "Sally went upstairs with Behemoth and the witch sisters to make the final call. Until then, all we can do is sit here and wait."

Shock and Lock were speechless. They glanced at each other nervously, however they were both careful not to show too much emotion as they still had their callous reputations to maintain in spite of all the mayhem.

A few moments later, Barrel appeared before them in the dense crowd trying to wiggle his way through Ivan and Vladimir. He finally managed to squeeze past the vampires and he stumbled over to his playmates, looking drunk and confused.

"Hey guys," he grunted, falling to his knees. "Why are there so many people around? It's freakin' me out…"

Shock sighed, attempting to help the imp to his feet. "I guess Dr. Finklestein was found dead. Supposedly he was murdered, but nobody's sure yet."

"I bet it was Sally herself who killed him," Lock cut in. "Or maybe Jack. All I'm saying is they were the last two I saw go upstairs before the Doctor was found dead."

Archie the Cyclops appeared behind them, his single eye wide open. "Do you really think so?" he asked, apparently having heard Lock's supposition.

Lock shrugged. "I don't know," he grunted in response. "I'm only reporting what I saw."

All of a sudden, the crowd fell silent as Sally, Behemoth and the witch sisters appeared at the top of the stairs. They rapidly made their descent and proceeded to push their way to the center of the living room, and finally Sally leapt atop the coffee table, a grave look in her eyes. She hushed any mutterings that remained with a wave of her small hand.

"After a thorough analysis of the scene, we've concluded that Dr. Finklestein was indeed murdered," she spoke firmly, although the trepidation in her voice was faintly audible. Sally bent down and took something from Zelda, and then held it up for the audience to see. It was a half-empty glass of what looked like red wine. "This," she said, "is the culprit. We found it on the nightstand next to Dr. Finklestein's wheelchair. It appears to be a standard glass of wine but if you get close enough you can spot within it the flecks of a crushed Deadly Nightshade plant."

"In small doses, Deadly Nightshade can be used as a sedative or sleeping aid," added Helga, stepping up onto the table beside Sally. "However if too much of it is consumed at once it can be extremely lethal. And according to my botanical knowledge this appears to be a rare strain of the plant that may be up to four times as strong."

Once again, the crowd erupted into a hodgepodge of frantic chatter. Lock and Shock looked back at each other and then peered down at Barrel, who was now passed out on the floor.

"Everyone, please settle down!" Sally yelled over the rabble. The noise gradually tapered off and then the ragdoll continued, "I want it clear that nobody is leaving this house until we find the one responsible."

"There's no way in hell the killer is going to confess," Vladimir piped up. "Punishment for first-degree murder in this town is burning at the stake."

Mulling over the vampire's assertion for a minute, Sally crossed her arms. "Well we're not going anywhere until somebody confesses," she stated firmly. "Now, come on. You know you're out there, and no matter what, you're going to get caught eventually. But if you confess here and now, the charges will be dropped by significant proportions."

The crowd was silent. Everybody held their breath as time seemed to stand still for a moment.

"Nobody wants to speak up?" prompted Sally, raising an eyebrow. "Alright then, you leave me no other choice. Behemoth, guard the front door. Mayor, please come forward. I'm going to wake up Jack and we're going to have a trial; this murderer will be caught and brought to justice tonight."


	14. Lovelorn

**Author's Note: **

Thank you everyone, for the awesome reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far.

"_At first cock-crow the ghosts must go_

_Back to their quiet graves below."_

_- Theodosia Garrison_

Jack rolled over in bed and sighed contentedly. Aside from the foul menthol taste in his mouth, he was beginning to feel rather comfortable and slightly less intoxicated. _Sally was so sweet to me tonight_, he thought tenderly. _And tomorrow, Doctor Finklestein is taking her away from me for five long, agonizing years. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…_

His train of bitter thinking was promptly interrupted when the bedroom door flung open. He lifted his head and squinted at the sudden inlet of light, immediately recognizing the shadow of Sally's slim figure standing in the doorway. He glanced up at her terror-stricken face. She looked numb.

"Jack…" she whispered.

"What is it, love?" Jack replied, propping himself up against the backboard.

"Come downstairs, immediately. Doctor Finklestein's been killed."

Jack's jaw dropped in disbelief. At first he was speechless, unsure of how to react. But after a few moments when his cloudy mind had finally absorbed the news, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards and he accidentally let out a small chuckle.

Sally gasped, looking infuriated. "You _laugh?_" she boomed upon marching up to his beside.

"I wasn't laughing!" Jack shouted back defensively. He held his hands up in front of his face for protection. "Remember, I'm still a little drunk. Alcohol makes everything funny, even…death I guess."

Eyes narrowing in disgust, Sally leaned in closer until she was face-to-face with her cowering boyfriend. "You're despicable," she hissed. "He was basically my father."

"Oh come on, you hated him!" Jack retorted, straightening up.

"Maybe so, but without him I wouldn't be here."

"I know, I know…I'm sorry. I've had a rough night."

Sally simply rolled her eyes and grabbed Jack's hands, pulling him up and out of bed. Still a little delirious, Jack took a moment to steady himself against the mahogany wardrobe.

"Thanks," muttered Jack, rubbing the back of his neck. "Again, I'm sorry."

At first, Sally said nothing but motioned for him to follow her back down the hallway. When they reached the stairwell she looked over her shoulder at Jack and stated bitterly, "My night wasn't so easy, either."

Jack felt his face flush with guilt as he followed the distressed ragdoll down the stairs. The moment they entered the living room, Jack was met by a sea of rampant party guests shouting and screeching and flailing their arms in hysteria.

"He's dead! He's dead! Dr. Finklestein is dead!"

"Somebody poisoned him!"

"Has anyone seen Stephen Wolfe?"

"I can't find the spiced rum!"

Jack pulled up a footstool and Sally helped him climb on top of it. He held out his arms to silence the crowd, and once the anxious voices died down he bellowed, "Everyone, please! Try to remain calm. You're safe where you are. Now, Sally, Helga, Zelda, will one of you kindly explain to me what happened?"

Helga stepped forward and took a seat on the armchair from which Jack had taken the footrest. Pulling her skirt down over her knees, the witch cleared her throat and turned to face the king. "Well…Zelda and I found the Doctor upstairs in your room –"

"You went in our _room?_" Jack interrupted, placing his hands on his hips.

"Let it go, honey," said Sally.

"My apologies," muttered Jack. "Please, continue."

Helga blushed, taking a deep breath. "We found him in your room…he was facing the window and he wasn't moving. We thought he was just deep in thought, and it wasn't until we got closer that we realized he had, um, expired."

The crowd began murmuring again; Jack silenced the citizens with a wave of his hand.

"And then…" Helga continued. "We found a glass of wine on the nightstand next to his wheelchair and discovered within it the crushed particles of an extremely lethal strain of Deadly Nightshade."

"And that's when they ran downstairs and told the rest of us," finished Sally, stepping forward. "I said that Skellington Manor will remain on lockdown until the murderer is caught. If they struck once, they could strike again."

Jack nodded, placing a boney finger to his chin. "Well then," he breathed, "first things first, everyone must discard their drinks immediately. And don't accept a cigarette or even a glass of water from anyone unless you went into the kitchen and filled it up yourself."

"Dammit," cursed Chucky McClown. "I'm not even drunk yet."

Jack leapt gracefully off of the footstool and exited the living room, leaving the guests with puzzled expressions on their faces. He returned momentarily carrying a large ceramic waste bin. He sashayed around the crowd and set the bin down in the middle of the room before climbing back on top of the stool, looking stern but composed.

"Now, everyone, please come forward and pour the remains of your drinks into this basin," he directed. "You can set your empty glasses on the coffee table and I'll get to them later."

Though some of the citizens whined in protest, one by one all of the ghouls lined up and discarded their drinks exactly as they were told. Afterwards they returned to their positions and faced their leader, looking sullen.

"Thank you for your calm compliance," said Jack. "Now, before we start the trial, we must take a brief role call. Behemoth, you were the employed bouncer and therefore I asked you to record each of the guests' arrivals and departures. Is there anyone's face absent from the crowd that didn't formally sign out?"

Behemoth withdrew the guest list and carefully examined the sea of monsters before him. Everyone was still and silent while he worked; the tension in the air was so thick it made moving nearly impossible. After several minutes, Behemoth's brow furrowed and he gruffly called out, "Barrel Beirmann?"

"Down here," Shock shouted in response. "He's, um…sleeping. Don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Are you sure he's okay?" asked Zelda from behind her sister.

"Yeah, he's good," replied Shock. "He just had a little too much to drink. This happens practically every night back home."

Behemoth stared blankly at the little witch for a few moments before returning to his list. Then his facial features twisted again as he looked up and scanned the group. "Stephen Wolfe?" he called.

No response.

"You still here, Stephen?"

Still no response.

Looking confused and concerned, Behemoth sauntered over to Jack and held up the guest list. "Stephen show up but he never check out," the hunchback grunted.

At that moment the crowd erupted once again into frenzy and everyone prattled anxiously, exchanging frantic glances with one another.

"Maybe he was the murderer!" somebody shouted.

"And that's why he left without checking out!" added someone else. "Because he didn't want to get caught!"

"Everyone, please calm down!" Jack bellowed, but to no avail. The panicked citizens babbled incessantly.

"Wait!" screamed a small voice from the back border of the mob. "I know what happened to Stephen!"

It was like a switch had been deactivated and the ghouls fell silent once again. Everyone immediately whipped around to locate the source of the voice, and there stood Lock Deville, his hands behind his back, his pale blue face flushed with guilt.


	15. Ambrosia

"_Everyone must choose one of two pains: the pain of discipline, or the pain of regret."_

_- Jim Rohn_

"Stephen's not the murderer," Lock said quietly while twiddling his thumbs.

"What are you _doing?_" hissed Billy from behind him. "People are gonna think it was you!"

Paying the corpse child no attention, Lock continued, "I suppose Stephen _could_ be the murderer…depending on what time of the night Dr. Finklestein was killed."

Jack stepped down once again from the footrest, crossing his arms. "What are you saying, Lock?"

Lock gulped nervously. "I found Stephen passed out in the hallway," he murmured. "He's not dead, just…unconscious. Like he had too much alcohol or something."

"Nice save," Billy whispered.

"So where is he now?" asked Jack, non-existent eyebrow raised.

"Er, well…" Lock stammered, staring at the ground. He peered over at Shock who merely shrugged her shoulders, her narrowed eyes communicating something along the lines of _leave me out of this!_

Then all of a sudden someone called out, "Lock poisoned his drink and stuffed him in the hall closet."

Once again everyone's heads spun around to face the exit to the staircase, the direction from which the stranger's voice had drifted. Perched coolly on the bottom edge of the handrail was none other than Anastasia, the Undersea Gal.

Lock felt the life drain from his cheeks. "Shit," he croaked.

"That's right, you little Red-hot" Anastasia cooed maliciously. She jumped down from the handrail and slithered through the framed archway into the living room. Despite the fact that she had spoken to Lock, her bright yellow eyes were fixed firmly on Jack and Sally.

Clearly (and rather unpleasantly) stunned, Jack faltered slightly, clearing his throat. "Good evening, Anastasia," he gasped, straightening up. "I'm sorry, but I didn't even know you even came to the party."

"Is that so? Guess you forgot to un-invite me, didn't you?" the finned ghoul spat back sourly. She slinked through the horde of wide-eyed partygoers until she reached the front of the room where Jack, Sally and the witch sisters stood uncomfortably.

Lock and Shock watched silently from the back of the crowd, occasionally flashing each other bewildered glances. Barrel stirred slightly at their feet and mumbled something about 'too much vodka.'

"As I was saying," growled Anastasia, whipping around to face the guests. "I saw Lock put something in a drink he gave to Shock, who ended up giving it to Stephen."

Shock immediately turned to the devil boy beside her, mouth agape and cheeks flushed with rage. "You tried to _roofie_ me!" she exclaimed.

"Uh…well…" Lock stammered, staring at the ground.

"No wonder I've been puking all evening! I only took a sip so it wasn't enough to knock me out, just make me crazy sick! You little bastard!"

"Hey, if you hadn't stolen my cigarettes down in the casino the other day, none of this would have happened!" Lock retorted, his tail swishing back and forth vigorously.

Shock took a step forward, causing her playmate to flinch slightly. "Is this your idea of a little revenge?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Fine. If that's how you wanna play…"

"Oh, come on, can't we just declare a truce?" Lock pleaded. "I mean, you did the cigarette thing and I did this, so…now we're even."

Shock was seething. "I am _beyond_ calling it truce with you," she growled. "You know what I think? I think _you're_ the one who murdered Dr. Finklestein!"

Lock opened his mouth to protest, but a shrill call of _'Quiet!'_ from the Mayor's megaphone stopped him. Both he and Shock returned their gazes to the council at the front of the room.

"Back to you, Jack," said the Mayor, bowing submissively to the Pumpkin King.

"Thank you, Mayor," Jack replied. He looked at the demon children. "Lock, might you be able to tell me where Stephen is now?"

Lock sighed, hanging his head. "He's right where Anastasia said he is…in the hall closet."

He was immediately met with a multitude of scornful gazes and derisive comments from the surrounding citizens.

"This is just the kind of thing you'd expect from one of Boogie's Boys," Lock heard Mr. Hyde mutter resentfully to Dimitri. "I wouldn't be surprised at all if he did kill Dr. Finklestein."

"Silence, everyone!" Jack called out to the crowd. "Now, before we begin the trial I need a couple of volunteers to go and fetch Stephen from the closet. At this point he has probably regained consciousness, but I expect he'll be quite woozy and disoriented. I'll need you to take him upstairs to the guest quarters and let him lie down there for the rest of the night."

"Me and Chucky will do it," offered Harley Quinn, raising his hand.

"Splendid," said Jack. "Thank you both."

With that, the clown and the harlequin demon moseyed their way through the crowd and out of the living room.

"Alright," Jack breathed, clasping his hands together. "I suppose while they're taking care of Stephen we can go ahead and nominate suspects for the trial."

Beside him, Sally was pursing her lips uneasily. She tapped Jack on the shoulder. "Are you saying we should just randomly accuse people and then interrogate them?"

"Unless the true killer confesses," Jack replied, "that's all we can do."

Sally nodded, still looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"I'd like to make an accusation," Shock yelled out from the back of the room. "I call Lock Deville to the stand."

"Of course you do," Lock grumbled under his breath.

"Lock," called Jack, beckoning the devil boy with his boney fingers. "Please come forward."

"Yeah, yeah, here I come." Lock squeezed his way through the stone-faced muddle of ghouls until he reached the council up in front. Helgamine motioned for him to take a seat on the velvet armchair beside her, and he did so reluctantly.

Jack nodded at the Mayor who stepped forward with a notepad and sat down in the chair across from Lock.

"Lock Deville," the Mayor began. "You have been charged on account of poisoning two of our guests and possibly murdering another. Please state your defense."

Lock sighed and leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "I plead guilty to the accidental poisoning of two people…it was only supposed to be one, for what that's worth."

Scribbling furiously on his notepad, the Mayor bobbed his head once but said nothing.

"However," Lock continued. "I did NOT murder Dr. Finklestein. It is true that I've done some pretty nasty things in my twelve years of existence, but I am not a killer. And you'll just have to believe me."

The Mayor, along with the rest of the council, looked at him skeptically. Someone in the crowd made a false coughing noise and muttered "bullshit!" under their breath.

"I'm sorry Mr. Deville, but the evidence presented tonight says otherwise," said the Mayor. "I'm afraid you'll have to bring forth a stronger argument if you wish to be dismissed."

"Billy can vouch for me!" Lock exclaimed, pointing to the corpse child standing towards the back of the room. "He's been with me the whole time; tell them Billy!"

Billy glanced around nervously, his hands behind his back. "It's true," he finally spoke. "Not long after the party started, Lock and I went upstairs to smoke weed in the guest bathroom. We've just been boppin' around ever since…well, except for when we found Stephen passed out in the hallway. But other than that…"

All of a sudden, Shock pushed him aside and retorted, "They were probably so high that they don't even remember killing Dr. Finklestein. When I first saw them on the staircase they looked _beyond_ fried."

"Can that really happen?" asked Jack.

"Of course it can," said Shock. "Don't act like you never experimented with cannabis, Bone Daddy. You were in college once."

"First of all, I never even thought to touch something so vulgar when I was twelve years old, unlike other people in this room," Jack replied defensively. "But that's beside the point."

"Ha! So you admit you tried it at one point in your life?"

"Miss Dionowitch, please."

"Stop avoiding the question."

"Quiet!" Jack boomed furiously. "Can we please turn our attention back to the trial? I'm sure people want to go home sometime before the end of the week."

"End of the _week?_" cried Hanging Tree. One of his hanging men burst into sobs.

"Calm down everyone, I was exaggerating," said Jack, waving his arms to settle the restive crowd. "Now then, Lock, is that all you have to present in your defense tonight?"

Expelling a long, dejected sigh, Lock closed his eyes and nodded.

"Don't worry too much, kid," said Helgamine comfortingly while resting her hand on the devil child's shoulder. "This doesn't automatically mean you're going to be charged guilty. We'll be interviewing plenty more suspects before the end of the night."

Another wave of impatient moans swept through the demons in the crowd and Helga glared at them crossly.

"Lock, please take a seat on the sofa across from the grandfather clock," ordered the Mayor. "At this point you have no official homicidal charges against you; however you are subject to further interrogation."

Lock rolled his eyes and muttered something derogatory under his breath. He rose leisurely from the velvet armchair, taking time to stretch his limbs, and then sauntered over to the sofa.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Deville," said the Mayor, giving a curt nod in Lock's direction. The imp just stared back, arms crossed contemptuously.

"Alright, good," Jack spoke, taking a deep breath inwards. "Now let's get moving. Would anyone else like to prosecute a suspect for the case?"

Sally tugged on his blazer, brushing a bead of sweat off of her forehead. "I'm uncomfortable with this," she whispered to her boyfriend.

Before Jack could respond, a fin shot up into the air from the center of the crowd and Anastasia called out, "I'd like to make an accusation. I call Sally Finklestein to the stand."


	16. Emerald Smoke

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, sorry it took so long to update…I've been really busy finishing up this quarter of college. You know, finals, working two jobs, all those end-of-the-year parties, drinking mimosas until 3 o'clock in the morning…ahem. ;) But on the bright side, I'm done with school until the fall and I'm only working one job this summer, so I'll have a lot more time to write!

p.s. If you haven't already, check out the "trailer" I made for this story at .com/watch?v=R1Og77LO1xc

p.s.s. Thank you to all my faithful reviewers! I love your comments. And remember, if you're a loyal follower of this story you can write anonymous reviews even without a account, so if you haven't yet posted a comment I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks again, guys!

"_Nobody forgets where he buried the hatchet."_

_- Frank McKinney_

Sally's knees buckled and her heart jumped into her throat. She looked frantically at Jack, then Anastasia, and finally back to Jack again. "Wh-what's happening?" she managed to croak.

"And don't even _think_ about bending the rules for your precious girlfriend, Skellington," the Undersea Gal snarled at Jack, "or there _will_ be consequences on your part, I assure you.

Jack narrowed his eyes, stepping in front of his quivering ragdoll. "Is that a threat?" he asked sardonically.

The corner of Anastasia's mouth curved slightly upward. "Absolutely."

Frightened tears welled up in Sally's wide eyes and she clung to Jack in desperation. "Do I really have to do this?" she whispered.

"I wish I could tell you no," Jack replied sorrowfully, planting a kiss on Sally's forehead. "But rules are rules. Everything will be fine though, I promise."

Sally choked back sobs as Jack took hold of her hand and slowly lead her over to the velvet armchair. Trembling rather violently as she sat down, Sally took a tissue from the coffee table and attempted to clean up the smudged makeup around her eyes. Jack bent down and kissed her forehead reassuringly one last time before retreating to his post among the other members of the council.

The Mayor stepped forward tentatively with his pen and paper, glancing back at the Pumpkin King whose expression was unreadable. He cleared his throat. "Sally Finklestein, you have been accused of first-degree manslaughter on account of the sudden death of Dr. Finklestein, your creator and long-time caretaker. Please state your defense."

It took a moment for Sally to push any words past her pitiful sobs, but when she was finally able to compose herself she muttered sternly, "I did not kill Dr. Finklestein, nor had I ever any intention of doing so. He was like my father. And even though we didn't get along well at times, I'd never think to hurt him in any way shape or form."

The Mayor nodded once, scribbling nervously on his notepad.

"I wish to challenge that statement," Anastasia piped up, approaching the stand. She glared spitefully at Sally, whose lip quivered in response. "Ms. Finklestein, is it not true that nearly three years ago around the time of the infamous Christmas fiasco, you made a habit of poisoning the Doctor's food on a bi-weekly basis?"

"Where does she come up with these statistics?" Sally heard Helgamine whisper to Zeldaborne, who shrugged in response.

"And is it not also true," Anastasia continued smugly, "that the drug you used to poison him came directly from the leaves of a Deadly Nightshade plant?"

The room was dead silent as everyone waited anxiously for Sally's response. Behind the council, the grandfather clock struck twelve and its hollow ringing caused a few ghouls to jump in place.

"Ms. Finklestein, please state your rebuttal," ordered the Mayor, trying his best to look firm.

Sally gulped audibly. "I…" she started, a fresh batch of tears spilling down her cheeks. "I…I don't know what to say, other than I promise you with every fiber of my being that I did not kill my creator. If that's not good enough, then…I guess you can all watch an innocent ragdoll burn at the stake." She hung her head and continued to sob quietly, feeling Jack's boney arms enclose comfortingly around her.

The Mayor opened his mouth to speak, both of his faces a rigid blend of pity and apprehension. He seemed to choke on his words as he rose to make the verdict but then faltered slightly, turning around to look at the witch sisters for any last inferred propositions. They merely shrugged, looking contrite.

"If I may…" Jack started, only to be interrupted by a nasty snarl from Anastasia's direction.

"Don't even think about it, Bone Boy," she warned, eyes narrowed to glowering slits.

"How dare you speak to your king in such an impure manner!" replied Jack, appalled.

"Oh, don't start," the finned demon snarled back. "Are you seriously going to stand there and try to scold me for name-calling when you're running around the pumpkin patch calling _me_ a dirty tramp?"

The spectating citizens gasped and stared at Jack in disbelief.

Wiping the remaining moisture from her eyes with the hem of her dress, Sally herself turned and gazed up at the king in astonishment. Jack's skull was bowed in shame, and Sally could tell that he was struggling desperately to think of a comeback.

"Well, my friends, would you look at that!" Anastasia declared. "Turn's out our ruler's not such a gentleman after all."

"Jack…is this true?" asked Helgamine, looking disconcerted.

Head still bowed in shame, the skeleton murmured "I don't think those were the exact words I used…"

"That's right; you called me a filthy slut," Anastasia corrected dryly, grinning devilishly as another round of concerned gasps escaped from the monsters in the crowd.

Sally continued to stare up at her lover. As much as she couldn't imagine Jack uttering such a phrase, she felt a twinge of pride and satisfaction towards the otherwise kind-hearted king for putting that wannabe femme fatale in her place. Anastasia was never shy about expressing her desire for Sally's mate, even though Sally was usually standing next to them in plain sight!

"Settle down, everyone!" the Mayor shouted through his megaphone. "I can assure you that these constant interruptions are not helping the trial move any faster."

Reluctantly the overwrought crowd members fell silent again, and the Mayor discarded his megaphone and turned to face the two defendants.

"Lock, Sally," the cone man started uneasily. "You both have been accused of possibly murdering Dr. Finklestein, and so far neither of you has presented a strong enough defense case. I ask the two of you to remain seated on the sofa under the surveillance of this council until this meeting is adjourned."

Refusing to shed another tear in front of the dithering audience, Sally calmly complied. As she walked towards the sofa she felt Anastasia's unforgiving glare stuck on her back like white on rice. Lock scooted slightly to the left to allow the ragdoll room to sit down beside him on the couch, and Sally did so impassively. Her heart was pounding wildly but she worked hard to remain stone-faced; she figured the more anxiety she expressed, the more suspicious her peers would become of her.

The devil boy next to her began to casually kick his feet in the air as he fiddled with the arrow on the end of his tail. He looked up at Sally out the corner of his eye and sighed, trying to gauge her emotional state. "So…" he finally spoke. "I guess we're kinda like convicts now, aren't we?"

Sally blinked, her eyes staring blankly into the space in front of her. "I am not a convict," she replied. "I've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"I never said you did!" Lock refuted, looking irritated. "Whatever. Forgive me for trying to bond with you. It's not every day that we have something in common."

"I have nothing in common with any of you three urchins," the ragdoll snapped back. "The only reason I'm sitting next to you on this accursed sofa is because I'm being blamed for something that you or one of your fellow imps probably did."

Lock's brow furrowed and he slowly turned his head until he was looking straight at Sally. "Come again?" he asked incredulously.

Still refusing to look the child in the eye, Sally clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. "You heard me."

Before Lock had a chance to respond, the Mayor clapped his hands together, bringing the ghouls' attention back to the council. "Alright," he breathed dismally. "It's time to nominate another suspect. Who wants to make an accusation?"

To his surprise, the crowd was silent. Everyone was looking around the room, anticipating another sudden allegation to shoot up into the air, but nothing happened.

"Anyone?" croaked the Mayor.

Several ghouls shrugged their shoulders, but overall the mass remained unresponsive.

"Alright then…" the Mayor said hesitantly. "I guess we've narrowed it down to two suspects: Lock Deville and Sally Finklestein."

"What do you reckon we do with them until the town can reach a formal consensus over which one is the true murderer?" asked Zeldaborne, sitting up in her velvet armchair.

Sweating profusely, the Mayor looked up at Jack, his eyes pleading a suggestion. "What…what do you think we should do, Jack?"

Jack looked at the Mayor, then at the crowd, then at Lock, and then at Sally. His skeletal features were contorted into what appeared to be a state of both physical and emotional agony. He turned his back to the crowd, closing his eye sockets just as a small tear rolled down his cheek. "Both defendants will be kept under lock and key in the town dungeon until the jury has reached a verdict. We will have another meeting in the Town Hall this upcoming Friday to discuss the matter once more, and the decision deadline will be set for Saturday."

Sally felt the tips of her fingers go numb. The dreadful tingling sensation then spread to her palms, up through her arms, and finally into her neck and shoulders until it felt like someone was choking her. She stared desperately in the direction of her lover, waiting for him to change his mind, to say it was all a misunderstanding…

"Are you sure?" asked the Mayor, wringing his sweaty hands together.

Jack slowly nodded.

Fighting the sense of asphyxiation, Sally managed to let out a small, hopeless cry. "Jack…" she whispered desperately.

Another tear leaked out of the corner of Jack's closed eye socket, and he shuddered violently. "Court dismissed."

With that, the Pumpkin King pushed several demons aside and ran out of the room.


	17. White Citrus

**Author's Note:** Thanks to BJXCBFOREVER for reviewing! By the way, I realize I posted a link to the "trailer" I made for this story with my last chapter but for some reason the full link didn't show up. Therefore, I ask you to go to YouTube and search for the user account "reveuramira" and you will find the video there on my channel (it's the only one I have uploaded). Thanks, guys!

"_Lips that taste of tears, they say,_

_Are the best for kissing."_

_- Dorothy Parker_

Lock didn't know whether to feel sorry, proud or bitter as he felt the handcuffs close tightly around his wrists. Though he didn't like to show much emotion, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion towards the heartbroken ragdoll beside him. She looked dreadfully livid; the fear and anguish was flickering visibly in her eyes but she didn't speak or struggle as Behemoth proceeded to chain her tiny wrists together.

At the same time, Lock had to admire Jack for being so cold but all in all sticking to the rules. He surely wasn't thrilled about the fact that he was going to be spending the next six days in prison, but in a weird way the upheaval sort of excited his demonic spirit.

"Time to go, guys," Behemoth said gruffly as he took hold of Lock's left arm and Sally's right one. He began leading them towards the front door, escorted from behind by a dejected-looking Mayor.

"The hearse is outside," said the Mayor to Behemoth, sighing heavily.

As they approached the exit, Lock craned his neck over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Shock and Billy watching him expressionlessly from the back of the otherwise despondent crowd. He cast his playmates an anxious glance.

"You're really going to let them do this?" he called out to them.

"Sorry, man…" Billy murmured remorsefully.

Shock was trying to achieve a devilish smile but Lock could see past her spiteful expression to the overwhelming concern she was struggling to repress underneath.

Lock sighed miserably as Behemoth gave him a slight push out the front door. Just as they left the house he could have sworn he heard Shock mutter, "I'll see you in hell."

_**Meanwhile…**_

Jack collapsed on his bed, sobbing quietly into his palms. He didn't want to send Sally to prison but he owed it to his citizens to be a fair ruler. The expression on her face before he fled the room flashed over and over through his troubled mind, vivid and relentless. She looked so stunned, so heartbroken…so betrayed.

There's no way she could have been the murderer, but how could Jack prove it? Her history of poisoning the Doctor certainly did not help the situation, and that dreadful Anastasia seemed to have every loophole in her accusation sealed by some sort of veritable detail. Where did she even get all of that information, anyways? No matter the person in question she always seemed to have their entire history under her fin. It almost seemed like maybe she –

Before Jack could finish his thought, Harley and Chucky burst through the bedroom door holding a large white sheet.

"What are you doing in here?" Jack snapped in both irritation and embarrassment, quickly covering his tear-stained face with a pillow.

It was Chucky who answered. "We came for the body."

Uncovering his eyes hesitantly, Jack looked over towards the window and felt his bones turn to ice.

There was the dead body of Dr. Finklestein. He sat motionless in his wheelchair, head lolled to one side, facing the open window. One would have guessed he was merely asleep had his eyes been closed, but instead they were wide open, glazed, hollow and lifeless.

Jack said a silent prayer and retracted his gaze, feeling suddenly grim. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, especially Sally, he was almost glad when he first heard the news of the Doctor's passing because that meant Sally wouldn't have to go to Bulgaria. But he scolded himself bitterly for ever reacting with such selfishness. Dr. Finklestein was a valued member of society and despite his obvious character flaws, he meant a great deal to the citizens of Halloween Town.

Interrupting Jack's course of silent grieving, Harley cleared his throat. "So…can we take it?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Jack as he wiped his face with the bed sheet. "Do you have a way to transport it to the mortuary?"

"Yeah, the Mayor's out front with the hearse," replied Chucky. "He also told us to tell you that the two of you need to work with Sally this week to arrange a funeral."

Jack's nonexistent heart sank at the mention of Sally's name. He and the Mayor would have to come visit her in prison to talk about her dead creator's interment. They'd need to discuss the date, time, location, figure out who is going to be responsible for the eulogy…that is, if Sally ever decides to speak to Jack again. Although Jack wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

The clown and the harlequin demon sauntered over to the body, carefully draping the white sheet over the top of it. They tucked the sheet's corners securely in between the Doctor's spine and the inside of the chair, and then Harley took hold of the handles and wheeled the carcass out of the room. Chucky followed close behind, his head bowed respectfully.

Jack watched them go, shivering as another bitter chill crept into the room. He stood up, walked over to the open window and shut it tightly. Snatching a woolen blanket off of the bed, he wrapped it around his shoulders and shuddered again, though this time more violently. The cold gripped relentlessly at his bones until he felt that with one false movement he would shatter like ice.

Fresh tears welled up in Jack's eye sockets and he fell to the ground. Pulling his knees into his chest, the Pumpkin King curled up next to the nightstand and wept.

_**Meanwhile…**_

Shock lay sleepless in bed that night. Every once in a while her eyelids would droop heavily and she would attempt to close them, but she couldn't shake the evening's events from her mind. She rolled onto her side and glanced at her watch on the nightstand. _3:07am._

The little witch groaned and covered her face with a pillow. An enormous sense of guilt suddenly pressed on her tired body so heavily she felt like she might sink into the mattress. Why was she feeling bad about what she did to Lock? That little brat deserved what was dealt to him!

Lock. The spunky, hot-headed stoner of the group. With an impressive musical library of various techno and dubstep stylings, a hamper piled high with rave gear and a bong collection that could fill the ocean, that devil boy was one of a kind. He and Shock had been together for as long as either of them could remember. They had belonged to the same orphanage until they were both about five years old, when they were finally adopted by the Beirmann family.

Mr. and Mrs. Beirmann were two woodland trolls that lived under a bridge in downtown Halloween. They had a three-year-old son named Barrel, who bonded immediately with his new adopted siblings. Although the Beirmann's were very poor, they never ceased to provide their children with plenty of love and comfort.

The Beirmann family lived semi-comfortably together for two more years until one dark and rainy December night changed everything. Lock, Shock and Barrel had gone to spend the evening with Billy Corpsechild, another youngster who lived with his parents in an apartment uptown. While they were gone, a violent thunderstorm ravaged Halloween Town and the river flooded; all of downtown was underwater by the end of it. While the three siblings took shelter from the madness in Billy's apartment up north, Mr. and Mrs. Beirmann, who had stayed at home down south, had both drowned under the bridge.

Not long after that dreadful night, the heartbroken and homeless trio was taken in by Oogie Boogie, a family friend of the Corpsechild's as well as Billy's godfather. It was then that they had all started to take up smoking, drinking and gambling, in part due to lack of early education as well as an attempt to repress the grief they felt for their deceased parents.

Shock let out a long, exasperated sigh. She rubbed her eyes and then stared up at the ceiling, consumed by a cornucopia of unwanted thoughts and feelings. Oh…how could she have done that to Lock? Sure, he was a huge jerkwad for trying to poison her at the party but she had been through the fiery pits of hell and back with that boy. She couldn't recall a time in her life when they hadn't been together…until now. Lock was going to prison, and there is a fifty-fifty chance he might be burned at the stake and it was all her fault.

All of a sudden the little witch shot up in bed, grasping at her chest. Her heart beat wildly and she began hyperventilating, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks. She gasped and tried to call for help, but only a tiny, pathetic whimper escaped her throat.

She shoved her sweaty hand under her pillow, feeling around desperately until her fingers finally enclosed around a small metal object. She withdrew the object and examined it resolutely, turning it around in her palm. With the click of a button, a sleek silver blade shot out the front end of it and Shock tightened her grip around the base, cackling madly. Hand trembling, she brought the blade to her left wrist and gave several swift slashes. Blood spattered on the sheets as Shock winced in pain. When she was finished, she held her wrist up to the window at her bedside and the moonlight illuminated three deep, jagged gashes directly under the base of her palm. For a moment she just sat and watched the blood flow down her forearm, dark and heavy, a satisfied grin stretching across her face. Though all of a sudden her vision began to blur and her head felt fuzzy so she lay back down on the bed, breathing deeply. Within moments, she was unconscious.


	18. Retrograde

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the great reviews, friends! I know I always say that, but I am deeply appreciative of you lending me your thoughts and feelings, plus I like to acknowledge those who acknowledge me. And to those of you who have yet to leave a comment, please know that you can post a review even without a fanfiction account…*wink* I know you're out there! I see you in my traffic stats. ;) Thanks again, guys.

"_I dropped a tear in the ocean, and whenever they find it I'll stop loving you, only then…"_

_- Unknown_

Jack woke up the next morning just as a stream of early fall sun was beginning to leak through the window shutters. Cracking open his eyelids, he noticed he had fallen asleep in the spot on the ground where he had been crying the night before. Wincing as the bright light pouring in from the window burned his invisible retinas, he attempted to rise. For a moment he had to steady himself against the bed, head bowed, in fear of his tired, wobbly legs giving out from underneath him. His skull was pounding.

"Great," Jack muttered to himself. "I lost my girlfriend, the townspeople are a mess _and_ I've got a killer hangover."

When he was finally able to stand up straight without feeling lightheaded, he threw on his bathrobe (despite the fact that he was still wearing his red suit from last night) and hobbled out of the room. Descending the spiral staircase was a challenge, and at one point Jack's foot slipped and he nearly took a tumble. Fortunately he reached the bottom physically unharmed, however the vertigo returned shortly thereafter and he managed to stumble into the bathroom across the hall just as he began to dry heave.

Jack moaned as his fragile body convulsed violently. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in the toilet bowl, expecting to vomit, though he merely continued to gag on nothing but air.

After six sickening retches he was finally finished. Cringing at the taste of stale mint in his mouth, Jack rose to his feet, limped over to the sink and turned on the faucet. He splashed some cool water on his face and then reached into the medicine cabinet for some Listerine. Unfortunately for Jack, the mouthwash was mint-flavored; as he unscrewed the lid and caught a whiff of the pungent scent he had to stifle another gag. He shoved it back into the cabinet and instead rinsed his mouth out with plain water.

Zero greeted his master with a delighted yip as Jack entered the kitchen. The skeleton smiled weakly as Zero brushed against his leg, his pumpkin-shaped nose glowing affectionately. Jack tossed the ghost dog a treat from the cupboard and then proceeded to brew a pot of dark roast coffee.

_I wonder if I should go see Sally today,_ Jack thought miserably to himself. _But what would I say to her?_ The back of his skull suddenly began throbbing painfully, and he reached across the counter and rifled through the contents of the ceramic bowl he kept next to the windowsill. At last his fingers enclosed around a bottle of aspirin, and he withdrew from it two small pills, which he swallowed dry.

Burying his face in his hands, he groaned dejectedly. He wanted to see Sally. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that he would never let her be executed, even if it meant forfeiting his throne. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry.

But now was not the right time. The Pumpkin King poured some of the freshly-brewed espresso into his mug and gazed out the window, watching distantly as the autumn sun rose up from behind the mountains. All of a sudden he frowned at the natural spectacle before him. Normally he loved sunrises, but there was something different about this one that disturbed him. The sky above the horizon was colored a deep scarlet, intense and sinister. It looked like blood.

_**Meanwhile…**_

Shock's eyelids fluttered as she slowly awoke to the harsh screaming sound of her alarm clock. She groaned, feeling weak, and reached her left hand across to the nightstand. Just as she slammed her fist down on the clock, she felt a sharp, stinging sensation jolt through her forearm. She cringed, grasping her left wrist with her other arm, and turned it over nervously. Directly under her palm there was a thick, messy layer of dried blood surrounding three painful gashes. The little witch gulped and sat upright, only to find several more crimson splotches on her sheets and comforter, along with a bloodstained knife beside her pillow.

A vicious chill ran down Shock's spine. She hadn't cut herself in years, not since her foster parents had died. She knew it was juvenile, but the guilt over what she did to Lock had gotten the best of her.

Resigning herself to a miserable day, she threw off the covers and stepped into a tattered pair of slippers. She shuffled down the hall and into the bathroom, gently cradling her mutilated wrist, and turned on the faucet. Grimacing as the hot water splashed onto her wounds, she scrubbed at the stained skin along her forearm until all the blood had disappeared down the drain in a murky red stream. She dried her hands on her pajamas and then bound her left wrist with a strip of gauze.

Groggily the little witch trudged further down the hallway and into the kitchen, expecting to see Oogie cooking breakfast and Barrel watching his morning television program on PBS. But neither her playmate nor the boogey man was anywhere to be found.

"Guys? Are you up?" Shock called out as she made her way over to the fridge. She opened it and withdrew a cup of durian yogurt. Just as she snatched a clean spoon up out of the dish rack, she spotted a mass of burlap outside the window by the front door. It was Oogie; he was sitting next to Barrel on the front porch smoking a cigar.

Brow furrowing in curiosity, Shock shrugged and grabbed her pack of cigarettes off of the countertop. She headed towards the front door, but as soon as she touched the handle the telephone rang.

Muttering curse words under her breath, she darted across the room and snatched up the phone from beside the fridge. "Hello?" she growled into the device.

"Shock, is that you?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Don't hang up! It's me, Lock."

Shock's jaw dropped and she felt her legs turn to jelly. She was silent.

"Are you there?" asked Lock.

Swallowing hard, Shock wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Hi," she finally managed to croak. "Wh-what's up?"

"I don't have much time," Lock answered, sounding distressed. "Behemoth is allowing both me and Sally one five-minute phone call each. I just wanted to ask you for something."

Shock cleared her throat. _Why isn't he mad at me? _"Yeah, sure," she replied. "Anything."

"So I was wondering if you could possibly bring me a fresh pack of Snarlboro Red's for the week, along with a forty sack."

_I should have known, _Shock thought. "I can bring you the cigarettes, but I'm afraid I don't currently have any weed on me."

"That's alright, just go buy some from Billy and I'll pay you back later," said Lock.

Rolling her eyes, Shock acquiesced. "Fine," she said, feeling strangely disappointed. Did Lock ever think about anything other than drugs? The little witch sighed. "I'll be there tomorrow around ten. Make sure you have a place to hide the weed once I give it to you, got it?"

Lock chuckled. "Girl, I got it figured out. Thanks a lot!"

"Mm-hmm. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Shock hung up the phone, feeling numb. She was the one responsible for sending Lock to prison, yet he was acting as if everything was totally fine between them. Maybe he really did believe they were "even" now. Whatever the reason, Shock felt mostly relieved, though slightly wary. She just couldn't figure out why she was so upset that he called only to place a substance order.

_Oh well,_ she thought to herself, finishing the yogurt and throwing the dirty spoon in the sink. _Guess I'll go and see Billy._

She kicked off her slippers and retrieved a pair of small black booties along with a taupe-colored pea coat from the closet. She tied her shoelaces sloppily though took great care with slipping her damaged limb into the arm of the jacket.

Oogie and Barrel glanced over at Shock as she opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. She gave them a curt wave, and they dipped their heads in response. Just as she started to cross the bridge to the mainland, she turned around and faced her companions.

"Hey, Oogie?" she asked the bug sack, who was still puffing away at his cigar. "Do you think you could give me a ride somewhere?"

Oogie set his cigar down in an ashtray beside the bench. "I suppose," he said. "The doom-buggy is kind of on the fritz again but it can go for a couple miles at least. Where do you need to go?"

"Just up to Billy's," Shock answered. "I don't want to walk all the way to the north side of town…I'm kind of tired." She touched her wrist uneasily.

"Alright," grunted Oogie as he stood up and stretched his burlap limbs. "Barrel, we'll be right back. I think there's a waffle in the freezer."

"Sweet! See you guys later!" exclaimed Barrel as he darted back into the house.

"Thanks, man," said Shock as she followed Oogie around the side of the house. Resting underneath a moldy tarp was Oogie's old doom-buggy. It was literally shaped like a bug, which Shock found extremely corny.

The two ghouls hopped into the car and put-putted back around to the front of the house and then across the bridge. Neither Shock nor Oogie spoke during the ride across town. For some reason, the atmosphere was different. Even though the sun was shining high in the sky, the air felt strangely thicker…more somber. Usually the streets were alive and bustling with ghouls on their way to work during this time of the morning, but today the plaza was nearly empty except for a few bums and wayfarers.

At last they reached the gates to Billy's apartment complex. Shock thanked Oogie once again and exited the doom-buggy, shivering in a sudden breath of wind. She withdrew her cell phone from her coat pocket and rapidly dialed Billy's number.

"Come on; pick up…" she muttered impatiently, pressing the phone to her ear. "It's winter out here."

Suddenly the ringing stopped and a high-pitched voice answered from the other end of the line. "Hello?"

"Billy? It's Shock."

"Hey. What's up hot stuff?"

Shock rolled her eyes and spat in the dirt. "Look, I need a favor. I want to purchase a forty-sack for Lock to tide him over for his week in the dungeon."

"Oh, really?" cooed Billy teasingly. "And what will you do for me in return?"

"How 'bout I bite your nose off?"

Billy paused for a moment. "Um, that won't be necessary," he murmured.

"So are you going to bring down the weed, or not? I need to get going." Shock was growing frustrated. Billy always tried to flirt with her.

"Well, actually…I'm currently out of stock," the corpse child answered nervously.

"Are you serious?" Shock demanded into the phone. "What am I supposed to do, then? Pull it out of my butt?"

"Calm down, before you blow a fuse," said Billy. "I can write you a referral to my grower. You can take it to her and she'll give you some fresh herb."

Shock let out a sigh of relief. "Alright," she replied. "I guess that'll work. Who's your grower?"

"Anastasia Finn."


	19. Plum Silk

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the awesome reviews, my friends! I'm pleased to let you know that I will most likely be presenting you with double the material over the next several days; I have fallen ill once again and therefore I will be confined to my room with lots of time to write/update. I hate being sick, but at least I have a lot of time to be creative…I guess. Wow. I don't know why I've been getting sick so much lately! I used to only get sick once or twice a year, but I guess living in the university dorms, taking city busses and folding clothes alongside sick coworkers has taken a toll on my immune system. -.-

"_By daily dying I have come to be."_

_- Theodore Roethke_

"Did you say Anastasia _Finn?_"

"…Yeah. Is there a problem?"

Shock stood frozen in place, mouth agape, racking her brain for the right words to describe her sentiments regarding this little arrangement. Though truthfully, she wasn't even sure how she felt about it. The fact that Anastasia was Billy's grower – the fact that she grew cannabis _at all_ – was more unbelievable than anything else.

The little witch gave her head a brisk shake, restoring her focus. "It's not a problem, Billy; it's just…slightly disconcerting."

"You asked me for weed, and this is the option I'm giving you," Billy replied defensively. "Now do you want a referral, or not?"

After letting out a long sigh, Shock muttered into the phone, "Yes, please."

_**Meanwhile…**_

Sally wanted to cry, but she felt like all the tears had been drained from her body. She pressed her bare hands to the icy rock walls of her prison cell, shivering as a chill ran down her spine. Enclosed in a thirty-foot by thirty-foot chamber of cold stone and iron bars, the only living arrangements an old cot, a toilet and a sink, Sally was in hell. She had often heard dreadful stories of the Halloween Town dungeon from homeless parolees on the streets, but she never thought she'd be one to experience it. Not to mention her only company consisted of that devil child, Lock, who was confined to the cell directly across from hers.

Slowly lifting a hand to her chest, Sally leaned piteously against the wall. _Jack sent me here, _she thought. _Why did he do it?_

"Hey, there…you okay?" Lock asked hesitantly from across the corridor, interrupting the ragdoll's private pity party. "You haven't said a word for two whole hours…at least, I think that's how long we've been in here, but then I again I have no idea."

Sally squeezed her eyelids shut, saying nothing. She didn't want to talk to anybody. Not even Jack. And _especially_ not one of Boogie's Boys.

"I mean, you haven't even used your free phone call," Lock continued, a twinge of concern in his voice. "Your family is probably wondering about you…you'd better let them know that you're safe at least."

A pained half-smile tugged at the corner of Sally's lips. Once again she didn't respond right away. Her hand dropped from her chest and she slowly sauntered over towards the far right corner of her cell where her shabby cot lay, sitting down upon it and delicately crossing her legs. She stared up and down the iron bars at the entryway to her cell.

"What family?" she finally smirked, looking forlorn. "The only other member of my family is dead."

Lock flinched, looking suddenly guilty. Evidently he had forgotten that Sally wasn't born into this world like the other citizens, but instead she was created by Dr. Finklestein nearly twenty years ago.

"S-sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't feel sorry for me," the ragdoll snapped back. "Granted, I've had a tougher life that most people but I'm still perfectly capable of finding a place in this messed up world. And unlike other idiots I don't use drugs and alcohol to drown my sorrows."

Now it was Lock's crimson eyebrows that narrowed. "Alright, now let me tell _you_ something," he growled, approaching the gated entrance to his cell. "You think you're the only one with a painful back story in this town? At least you know where you came from; I was an orphan from the time I was born until I reached the age of five, when I was finally adopted into a wonderful family of trolls who took care of me with what little they had for two years. Then they all died. The only family I had ever known, dead. I was only seven then, and now I am twelve. I'm not even a teenager and I've already been through what's taken your whole life to happen."

Sally was silent. She watched expressionlessly as a bead of sweat rolled down the frustrated imp's forehead.

"Same thing with Shock!" Lock continued, clutching the iron bars of his cell. "I've known her for as long as I can remember. And Barrel…he was the biological child of the family that adopted me. And he's even younger than me and Shock. Sometimes when he's drunk, he calls out for them. I also hear him cry at night…I think he dreams about them."

He waited, but still Sally didn't respond. Her face showed no signs that she had even been listening to Lock's story.

But she had been, and inside she was hurting deeply for the three mischief-makers, an emotion she never thought they deserved. Even though there was still no excuse for their misbehavior and illegal toxic practices, she felt compassion for these children, and even a strange, miniscule desire to coddle and comfort them.

Lock cleared his throat, and Sally noticed he was trembling slightly. "I just wanted to tell you," he croaked, "…that you're not the only one who's lost family."

At last Sally directed her gaze towards the devil boy and smiled sympathetically. It wasn't a very wide smile, but Lock knew it was there, and he could sense its tenderness. He stared at the ground, and Sally could have sworn he was blushing slightly.

All of a sudden, the ghouls heard the rattling of janitorial keys behind a large iron access portal at the far right end of the corridor. With a rusty, ear-splitting squeak it opened, and into the passageway slithered the creature with fingers like snakes and spiders in his hair. In his palms he balanced two plastic trays of food; he was the dungeon's head gatekeeper and criminal supervisor and therefore he was in charge of delivering meals to the prisoners.

"Afternoon Block, Hallie," he greeted the dejected-looking inmates upon approaching the parallel entrances to their cells.

"Um, that's Lock and Sally," Lock corrected timidly. "But 'afternoon' to you too, Boris."

Boris let out a hearty chuckle. For the prison gatekeeper, and being famous throughout Halloween Town for perfecting the art of hiding under children's beds, he wasn't all that gruff a fellow.

"What's for lunch today?" asked Lock, watching intently as Boris set one of the trays down on the floor and with one swift sent it sliding under the gates to the imp's cell. He then turned around and approached Sally's cell, repeating his actions with the second tray.

"Pickled pancreas with a side of dried dog ears," the gatekeeper answered. "Now, I don't wanna risk spilling your glasses of pumpkin juice, so I'm just gonna set them outside your cells within arm's reach for when you're ready."

"Thanks, Boris," Lock said politely, which Sally found very odd. Since when did this child have manners?

"Yes, thank you," Sally added, her voice barely a whisper.

"Now then, y'all better dig in 'fore it gets cold!" called Boris as he retreated back down the corridor towards the exit. "I'll see you kids later." He opened the access portal and stepped outside, waving goodbye to the prisoners with a snake-covered hand before slamming the door shut behind him. The jingling of keys sounded again as Sally heard locks click in several places.


	20. Garnetfrost

**Author's Note:** As promised, another chapter within the span of two days! This is record time for me, guys.

p.s. I created an authorial graphic – it's a picture of me with a silhouette of Jack standing on Spiral Hill in the corner. This is what I do when I'm sick and lonely…anyways, the link to the graphic is posted on my profile page, for those of you who are interested.

"_A man often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."_

_- Jean de La Fontaine_

Shock rubbed her hands together furiously as another gust of autumn wind whipped through the clearing. She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the referral slip Billy had signed for her; she was supposed to deliver this to Anastasia in the marshlands and therefore receive the weed at some kind of "member" price. The fact that the acclaimed Scarebucks barista was a pothead still boggled her mind, and it made her wonder why the mermaid demon was so quick to rat out Lock (a fellow stoner) for poisoning Stephen Wolfe.

Shock pondered this as she followed the cobblestone path that lead through the pumpkin patch from town square. Though she had never visited the swamp before, Billy told her it was located at the west base of Spiral Hill just before the Hinterlands. He also said that she would most likely smell it before she saw it, which Shock wasn't looking forward to.

Just as she stuffed the referral note back in her coat pocket, Shock's fingers brushed a small paper box, causing her eyes to light up. "I forgot I had brought these with me," she said pleasantly to herself. She withdrew the pack of Snarlboro's and placed one between her lips, searching for her lighter.

"Dammit," she cursed. "I think I left my lighter at home…oh, wait! Here's a match." Like an expert outdoorsman, Shock struck the match against a tombstone, kindling a small flame. She held it up to the end of her cigarette and took a deep breath inwards, smiling contentedly as the nicotine rushed to her brain.

At last the young witch reached the foot of Spiral Hill. Unsure of which way was 'west,' she shrugged and sniffed the air. A pungent fish smell suddenly entered her nostrils and she covered her nose and mouth, stifling a gag. She took another drag off her cigarette and hesitantly proceeded to circle the base of the hill.

Shock's boots squelched loudly as she walked, and she knew that meant she was getting close. Suddenly she faltered as her left foot sank into the ground, causing her to drop her cigarette. She threw her head back and shouted a blasphemy. "This weed better be worth it," she grumbled to herself while struggling to pull her boot out of the mud.

"Oh, it will be," said a familiar voice from behind.

Shock jumped, startled. She craned her neck back and saw Anastasia standing a few feet away, a mischievous grin spread across her scaly cheeks.

"Geeze, dude!" growled Shock, looking flustered. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. What if I had a weapon?"

Anastasia continued grinning and slinked over to the struggling child. With one sharp yank, Shock's boot was free from the water-sodden ground.

"Thanks," said Shock, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

Anastasia dipped her head in response, and then she clasped her fins together in front of her chest. "How else may I be of service to you?" she asked politely.

Retrieving the crumpled referral note from her coat pocket, Shock leaned in and hastily whispered, "Look, I want to buy some weed from you. Billy Corpsechild wrote this referral so I could get it for the same price he does."

Nodding slowly, Anastasia examined the note with wary eyes. "Alright," she finally said, turning around and beckoning to Shock. "Come with me."

Shock followed her over a small wooden bridge that led across the swamp waters onto some firmer lands. They continued into what looked like a poorly-built beaver dam, and Anastasia snatched an already-glowing lantern off of the shelf at the entryway.

"Welcome to Ana's House of Herb," said Anastasia as she held out her arms in presentation, although it was too dark for Shock to really see much. "Was there any specific strain of cannabis you were looking for?"

Shrugging, Shock replied nonchalantly, "I need forty dollars worth of anything. Preferably I'd like to get more for the money."

Anastasia turned around, lifting the lantern high above her head to reveal a series of wooden cupboards with padlocks on the handles. She grazed her fin down the line until she reached the cupboard furthest to the right. Shock watched her suspiciously as she turned the dial on the padlock, letting it fall to the ground upon cracking the combination. The mermaid demon reached into the cupboard and felt around on the top shelf, her facial expression contorting into one of frustration. She gasped as she accidentally knocked over two crystal jars, both of which tumbled out of the cabinet and shattered on the floor, spilling their contents everywhere.

"Shit!" Anastasia cursed. "That was the only kind I could sell you for forty. Everything else I have is too expensive."

"Ah, man!" lamented Shock, her shoulders drooping in disappointment.

"Tell you what," proposed Anastasia as she bent down and swept some of the bits of herb into a pile. "The buds here are still good. I'll sell you this for twenty percent off."

Shock's brow furrowed, and then she shrugged again. "Sure, whatever," she agreed. "It's not for me anyways."

Anastasia grinned in satisfaction; she filled a small baggy with some of the fallen plant buds and handed it to Shock, who in turn exchanged her dollar bills.

"I am quite pleased with this negotiation," Anastasia chirped pleasantly. "Perhaps you'd be interested in selling for me? You'd get fifteen percent of the profits."

"Eh, maybe later," replied Shock. "I'm not really looking for a job right now."

"Well when you are, please come by and drop off an application."

"Will do. Thanks for the weed."

"Of course."

Shock nodded goodbye to the aquatic woman and headed towards the door, stuffing the bag of weed securely in her pocket. _Anastasia's homegrown weed._ She walked at a brisk pace, eager to leave this paradoxical domain as soon as possible before Mr. Hyde showed up and tried to peddle her crack.

"Um, Shock?" Anastasia called out just as the little witch reached the warehouse exit. "Wait."

Shock stopped and turned around hesitantly. "…What?"

"I was wondering…" Anastasia said in a low voice, slithering up to Shock's side. "Can I recruit you into a secret operation?"

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, Shock crossed her arms. "I'm afraid you can't recruit me into something I know nothing about," she answered doubtfully. "I can be a tough nut to crack."

Anastasia laughed out loud, causing Shock to jump again. "Well, my fine, narrow-nosed friend," she cooed, dropping to her knees in order to look the stout and skeptical Shock in the eye. "The reason I'm asking for your assistance stems solely from your history of disloyalty to people who trust you."

"What in hell's bathroom are you talking about?" Shock snapped back, growing annoyed.

"I'm referring to what you did to Lock back in Skellington Manor," replied Anastasia. "You sent your best friend to prison, and for that I admire you greatly."

"Look, I gotta go," Shock said abruptly, feeling suddenly vulnerable. She turned around once again and was nearly out the door when Anastasia swiftly reached forward and caught her arm.

"I'd pay you handsomely!" she urged, struggling to pull the little witch back inside.

"Let me go, you bitch!" shrieked Shock, tugging back fiercely.

Ignoring Shock's crude insult, Anastasia continued, "I'm planning a takeover. I need you to help me, you have great potential…" She tightened her grip on Shock's arm. "…I want to be Pumpkin Queen. Since Jack doesn't want me right away, I have to rid this town of all other female threats so he has no choice but to make me his queen."

"You're insane, lady," grunted Shock as she continued to struggle aggressively against Anastasia's unrelenting clutches.

"I'm sorry, Shock, but I've already told you too much," Anastasia replied mechanically. "If you refuse to take part in my plan I will have no other choice but to kill you."

Shock's eyes widened in alarm. "You wouldn't…" she whispered.

Expression unchanging, Anastasia pulled Shock in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "If there's something you have yet to learn about me," she said darkly, "it is that there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do."

Shock gulped audibly. She said nothing, but continued to stare the Undersea Gal straight in the piercing yellow eyes. Within them swirled a menacing flame which to Shock looked like raging bloodlust. How could Billy send her to this maniac unaccompanied? Was he even aware of how bat-shit crazy this woman was?

At last, the little witch stopped struggling and let out a defeated sigh. "You have my allegiance," she croaked reluctantly.

Anastasia smiled and released Shock's arm, causing her to trip and stumble backwards into the dirt. She approached the fallen child who glared up at her with an expression of pure hatred, but Anastasia's wicked grin merely stretched wider in response. "Now that's a good girl."

"You go to hell," Shock snarled back.

"Come back tomorrow for your first assignment," Anastasia instructed. "I'll see you at ten o'clock sharp; and remember, if you tell a soul about this, I will know, and I will kill you. I have eyes all over town."

"Can it not be ten o'clock?" asked Shock, raising a finger. "I might have a prior commitment –"

"Ten o'clock sharp," Anastasia repeated firmly before taking hold of Shock's hands and hoisting the little witch to her feet.

"Fine," growled Shock, furiously brushing the dirt off of her jacket.

"Now be gone. Enjoy your cannabis." Anastasia shooed her away with a brisk flick of her fin.

Casting the mermaid one last spiteful glance over her shoulder, Shock proceeded to exit the dam. She tentatively crossed the bridge over the swamp waters and then took off running.


	21. Chantilly Lace

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks again for the reviews! I have thoroughly enjoyed my week off from work (I haven't so much enjoyed being sick, but being able to lie around doing nothing for once was nice) and I am pleased with the amount of writing I was able to get done during that time. Three new chapters in five days! But alas tomorrow it's back to work, and my next day off isn't until next Friday…/sulk/ But maybe we'll get lucky and I'll squeeze out another chapter before then. In the meantime, my friends, stay busy, get plenty of exercise, and don't drink too much! Then again, don't drink too little. ;]

"_You can as easily love without trusting as you can hug without embracing."_

_- Robert Brault_

"Do you have any sevens?"

"Go…away."

Lock shrugged and tossed his playing cards over his shoulder. He fell back onto the cot and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Sally sat solemnly on the floor of her cell across from him, staring up at the wall. She felt dazed, numb, and lifeless. According to her calculations it was about ten o'clock p.m.; dinner was served at seven-thirty and it seemed like it had been a little over two hours since Boris last left them. Sally exhaled softly, closing her eyes. She had made it through her first full day in prison. _Five more days to go until the second trial,_ she thought. _And after that…well, I'll either be free, or I'll be firewood._ The ragdoll shuddered.

Across the way, Lock sat upright on his cot and started to bounce up and down restlessly. "Ugh, I'm so bored!" he whined. "Are you sure you don't want to play another game?"

"No, I do not," replied Sally indifferently. "I'm not in the mood. Sorry."

"Are you still thinking about that bone man?" asked Lock, scooting back on his cot and crossing his legs.

"He betrayed me," Sally answered quietly.

"He did what he had to do," said Lock. "Look, I know you're hurt, but what would you have done had you been in his position? The entire town has entrusted itself to his leadership, and he was only being fair to his people. If there's anyone you should be upset with, it's that sea bitch Anastasia. It's her fault we're _both_ in here."

Sally turned her head slightly to look at him. Then she raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Since when did you have all of these insightful thoughts and feelings, Mister Deville?" she asked somewhat humorously.

Cheeks reddening in embarrassment, Lock scowled at her. "Gee, thanks. Way to kill a mood, Stiches."

"What are you getting so upset for? It was a compliment!"

"Whatever."

"Come on," cooed Sally. She had become rather entertained with their banter. "Chicks dig a sensitive guy. Maybe next we'll try a hug."

"Stop it!" Lock shouted back defensively. "I am not cute, I am not sensitive! When I was younger I used to bite the heads off dolls!"

"Aw, you had dolls?"

"Shut up!"

For the first time in nearly two days, Sally was laughing. "I'm just busting your chops," she finally reassured the glowering devil child. "You know what? You _are_ way too sensitive."

As soon as Lock opened his mouth to respond, the familiar jingle of janitorial keys sounded from behind the access portal. With several small clicks the door swung open and Boris stepped into the corridor holding a brightly-lit lantern.

"Sally?" he barked, lifting the lantern up to her cell.

Shielding her eyes, Sally replied, "What is it, Boris?"

"You have a visitor."

All of a sudden, a tall, slender shadow appeared on the wall behind Boris, and out into the corridor tentatively stepped Jack Skellington.

"Hi Sally," he greeted her softly, waving a boney hand.

Sally's stomach crashed to the floor and the breath caught in her throat. She felt the tips of her fingers go numb again, and her heart was beating so fast and furiously she thought her chest would split open. _What was Jack doing here? Did he come to bail her out, or laugh in her face? No, he wouldn't do that…would he?_

"M-my…" she suddenly stammered awkwardly.

Jack looked concerned. "Are you alright, dear?"

Sally laid a hand to her forehead. She squinted in the glow of Boris's lantern, wondering if she was even seeing things correctly. "M-my bright…bright..."

"Your bright, bright what?"

Sally gulped loudly, feeling suddenly dizzy. "My bright, bright…bright."

Jack cast Boris a puzzled glance, but the night guard merely shrugged.

"Mr. Skellington, I'm afraid I can only allow you fifteen minutes with our prisoners," grunted Boris upon turning around to face the exit. "I will return at 10:45 to escort you off of the premises."

"Understood, Boris, thank you," replied Jack, nodding his head respectfully. As soon as the snake demon left, Jack hesitantly began to approach Sally's cell.

Still feeling rather stunned, Sally scooted forward slightly, but she didn't bother to rise. The nerves seemed to have died in her legs anyhow.

"Darling, why are you sitting in the floor?" asked Jack, smiling nervously.

"Never mind that," croaked Sally, features suddenly hardening. "What are you doing here?"

Jack's smile faded. "I…I couldn't sleep."

"Oh?" replied Sally, raising an eyebrow. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Because…" Jack cleared his throat. "…because I couldn't feel you there beside me…"

"Hey, watch it!" shouted Lock from across the hall. "There are children present!"

The two lovers ignored him. They stared at each other for several moments, each struggling to decipher the other's expression.

"And I also wanted to tell you something," Jack finally continued, clutching the iron bars of Sally's prison cell. "Look, Sally…I'm sorry. Honest to God, sending you here was the last thing I wanted to do. You have to believe me. I was just trying to be a fair ruler."

"What happened to, 'Sally, I love you and I will never let anything happen to you?'" choked Sally, blinking away the tears that welled up in her eyes.

"I do love you!" Jack shouted back desperately. "I love you more than anything in the world! _Please_ tell me you know that!"

A small, silver tear managed to squeeze out the corner of Sally's eye. It splashed onto the concrete ground beneath her. "I don't know that I do," she whispered.

Jack's knees buckled and he took a moment to steady himself. He gazed into the cell at Sally with wide, pleading eye sockets. "Do you love me?"

Sally wiped her eyes and swallowed the cries that had knotted up in her throat. She stared up at the Pumpkin King sorrowfully, pulling her knees into her chest. Then, in a voice that was barely audible, she answered, "No."

She watched as Jack fell to his knees, she watched as the tears spilled in rivers out of his eye sockets, she watched as his fragile heart split in two.

From across the corridor Lock silently witnessed the spectacle, mouth agape in astonishment.

"Sally…" Jack choked as he reached through the bars towards the unmoving ragdoll. His arm was trembling violently.

"Goodbye, Jack," Sally replied tonelessly. She turned around and faced the rear of her cell so her back was to the sobbing skeleton.

Jack continued to weep piteously behind her for several more minutes, but she refused to cast him a second glance. Although she did still love him, her trust in him, trust that due to her abusive past took years to build, had shattered. He had betrayed her and locked her away. Just like Dr. Finklestein used to do.

At last Jack stood up, though he was still crying uncontrollably. Sally listened as his footsteps and his sobs faded together down the corridor, and it wasn't until she heard the big iron door slam shut that she let one last tear roll down her cheek and onto the cold, concrete floor of her prison cell.


	22. Nocturnelle

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry for the long gap between now and my last update; I got promoted at work and that's been taking up a lot of my time. I wrote a good chunk of this chapter the day after the 4th because I was lying around at home with a bad hangover, but I wasn't able to finish it until yesterday. In the mean time, thank you so much for the reviews and I hope to update again soon! Xox

"_I put down the Bible for a lady and a bottle_

_And I feel a lot less like a whore."_

_- Brown Bird_

Shock woke up the next morning to the shrill, incessant ringing of her alarm clock with an earsplitting headache. Groaning and massaging her temples, she turned over and glanced at the time. _8:00 a.m. _She slammed her fist down on the snooze button and reluctantly threw the covers off.

"I don't think I've ever been up this early in my life," she grumbled to herself upon rising. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stuffed her bare feet into her slippers and trekked down into the kitchen.

Across the way in the living area, Barrel was laying face-down on the couch, snoring raucously into his pillow. Fast asleep on an air mattress beside him was his best friend Crate, the mummy child. Shock cursed them under her breath and then proceeded to shuffle noisily about the kitchen. If she had to be awake before noon then so did everybody else.

After she had washed up and made breakfast, Shock grabbed the bag of weed out of the top drawer of her nightstand, stuffed it into her coat pocket and headed out the door. As she left she heard Barrel drowsily mutter, "I'm not the Little Wayne…"

Shock stepped out onto the front porch and glanced at her wristwatch. _8:27 a.m._ _Good, I still have an hour and a half before I have to be at Anastasia's,_ she thought to herself with an added sigh of relief. She glanced up at the overcast sky and buttoned her coat. A cold, snow-covered winter was on its way. And Shock feared that if things turned for the worst, she'd be having a lot of fireside cocktails alone this year.

As Shock entered the town square, she was overcome by sudden sense of déjà vu. Not simply due to her knowledge of the area, but rather the suffocating thickness of the air struck her as familiar. The streets were just as solemn and empty as the day before, if not more so, and the few passersby bared expressions that silently delivered scorn and criticism towards the discomfited little witch.

Cringing as the throbbing in her skull returned, Shock paused in front of Scarebucks Coffee House and contemplated making a quick run for a latte. She shrugged, deciding she'd get something for Lock as well, and pushed past the front doors.

Scarebucks was surprisingly crowded; the whole town must seek solace in a cup or two of overpriced espresso when the going was tough. Shock withdrew her coin purse and stood behind a large gargoyle with bad skin in line. She glanced warily around the coffee shop, afraid she might spot someone she didn't want to see. _Like Anastasia_. But the only faces she recognized consisted of Mel (the melting man), the town musicians and the Hanging Tree. All of the other customers were less familiar demons who were probably just stopping by on their way to work.

At last the gargoyle in front of Shock had paid the cashier for his order and stepped aside towards the handoff counter. Shock was peering up at the menu and tapping her chin, when suddenly she heard a sly, melodic voice ask innocently of her, "What can I get for you today, miss?"

Shock gulped audibly. Stationed in front of her behind the cash counter, holding a marker and smiling innocuously was Anastasia.

"Uh…" was all Shock managed to utter.

"May I suggest a pumpkin spice latte?" chirped Anastasia. "They're a seasonal favorite."

Praying desperately that her terror-stricken blush wasn't too conspicuous, Shock cleared her throat and unzipped her coin purse. "Yeah, uh, I guess I'll take one of those and a tall white mocha."

"Perfect. That will be six dollars and forty-nine cents, please."

Shock handed her a wad of crumpled up bills and placed a handful of coins into the tip jar. Anastasia grinned and opened the cash register, inserting the bills and giving Shock her change. Shock nodded curtly in appreciation and then scrambled away from the aquatic barista and over to the hand-off counter.

Shock sat down at a vacant table and buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply. She had completely forgotten that Anastasia still worked at Scarebucks. For some reason it just felt extremely awkward to see the Undersea Gal in a normal public setting, especially now that they were "business partners." Shock didn't know what to say to her or how to behave in her presence; she feared that one false movement could be severely detrimental to everyone in Halloween Town, least of all Shock herself.

"Quad venti Americano for Greggory!" Anastasia called out from the bar. The hefty gargoyle with bad skin sauntered over to the counter and received his drink gratefully.

Shock knew that her two drinks would be next. She whipped out her cell phone, trying to look distracted, but she could feel Anastasia's harsh gaze burning into the flesh on the back of her neck. _It's fine,_ she reassured herself. _Just don't let her know she scares you._

Finally she heard the barista announce, "I have a tall pumpkin spice latte and a tall white mocha for Shock!"

The little witch took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter, retrieving her two drinks with another simple nod. As she turned around she noticed Anastasia flash a sly wink in her direction, but Shock didn't stop walking until she was out the door and several blocks up the street from the forsaken coffee shop.

"I'm never going in there again," Shock said to herself upon taking a seat on a bench outside of QFC (Quivering Fear Center). She raised one of the cups of coffee to her lips but then paused to determine which of the two drinks was hers. Both cups said _Shock_ on them, but another small bit of text on the pumpkin spice latte caught her eye.

Directly underneath the Scarebucks logo and written in fine cursive read _be there or beware._

Shock's heart fluttered anxiously and she glanced at her wristwatch. A little over an hour remained before she had to be back at the lagoon. Immediately she hopped to her feet and resumed walking up the street, though this time she moved at a faster pace. She paused briefly to take a sip of her latte but then stopped herself. _What if Anastasia poisoned these?_ she thought cautiously. _Nah…she wouldn't poison her only accomplice._ The little witch sighed heavily. _Not yet, anyways._

_**Meanwhile…**_

Lock shielded his eyes as the Monday morning sun began leaking through the barred window of his prison cell. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, but since it was only the beginning of September the days were only slightly shorter than summers-length. It was probably around 9:00 a.m. If Shock kept her promise, she should arrive with her playmate's order of weed and tobacco in about an hour.

Hoisting himself up and out of his moth-eaten cot, Lock sauntered over to the sink and splashed some cold water onto his face. He glanced across the way at Sally's cell; the ragdoll appeared to be sleeping soundly, but Lock knew she wouldn't awake well-rested. After Jack had left the night before, she went immediately to bed and lay still for only an hour before proceeding to roll around and mumble incoherently in her sleep throughout the rest of the night. Like she was having a bad dream.

Lock himself was still in shock from the events of the previous evening. Jack and Sally had…broken up. The Pumpkin King was dumped by a milquetoast peasant. _The dead doctor's creation! _As much as Lock had begun to grow fond of Sally, he still had a hard time respecting her as a registered citizen of Halloween Town and not cracking jokes about an angry mob or how the doctor forgot to put bolts in her neck. Nevertheless, it was safe to say that all the spilled tears and negative tension last night didn't sit well with him. Ironically enough.

Just as Lock had stripped off the ratty old scrub the dungeon guards had given him for pajamas, he heard Boris's booming voice from behind the iron door. Quickly Lock zipped up his regular red onesie and sat cross-legged on the floor beside his cot. With several clicking sounds the iron door swung open, and Boris, clad in his blue security guard uniform, stepped inside carrying two steaming plates of food.

"It's nine o'clock, kiddos, time for breakfast!" the snake demon bellowed cheerfully. "We're having durian berry pancakes and scrambled dragon eggs this morning."

"Rad," chirped Lock, bounding over to Boris at his cell gate.

"By the way, Mister Deville, you have a visitor," said Boris. He pinched two slithering fingers together and whistled over his shoulder.

Suddenly, a tall, pointed hat appeared behind Boris and out into the corridor stepped Shock with a sunken look on her face.

"I can only allow you fifteen minutes, Miss Dionowitch," grunted Boris in a manner that sounded all too routinely. "I'll be back here a quarter after nine to escort you off of the premises."

"Cool beans," Shock replied nonchalantly.

"By the way," said Boris as he glanced across the way at Sally's cell. "Is she alright over there? I did a walk-through last night around 2 a.m. and she seemed to be having night terrors."

Lock rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Oh yeah, don't worry about it. She told me she gets those sometimes when she's stressed. Especially now…you know, being in prison and all."

Boris still looked concerned, but he merely set Sally's breakfast down next to her cell and retreated back towards the access portal. "Oh, well that's good I suppose," he replied upon stepping out of the corridor. "I was afraid it might have something to do with Jack's visit last night. He wasn't in very good condition when he left, either."

"Nah, they'll be fine," Lock reassured him.

"Alright, well, be sure to wake her up before her food gets cold!" With that, Boris slammed the iron door shut and Shock turned to face her captive companion.

"So…how ya doin'?" she asked nervously.

"Not bad, actually," Lock replied in a casual manner. Then he beckoned the witch closer and added softly, "Did you bring the stuff?"

Shock rolled her eyes briefly and then withdrew the pouch of weed along with a fresh pack of Snarlboro Red's. Lock's face lit up as he reached through the bars of his cell and snatched the treasures out of her hands, admiring them satisfactorily.

"Thanks, dude!" he chirped exuberantly, tucking the cigarettes into his onesie and then kneading the buds in his baggie of weed. Suddenly, his brow furrowed. Something wasn't right…several of the nugs in the sack were discolored. He opened the bag and poured part of the contents into the palm of his hand, examining them suspiciously.

"What is it?" asked Shock.

"These buds…they're different than the others." Lock sniffed at the collection in his palm and then recoiled suddenly, his facial features distorted. "Gross! What the hell is this?"

Shock picked up one of the odd-looking buds and scrutinized it. "I don't know…I got it from Anastasia, of all people."

"Anastasia _Finn?"_

"That's what I said too."

"What are you doing hanging around with that waterlogged hussy?"

"Believe it or not, she's Billy's grower," Shock replied, handing the bud back to her playmate. "I wouldn't be surprised if she also owned a brothel, ran a meth lab and worked weekend nights at DreamGhouls."

Lock stared at her incredulously. Anastasia, the barista at Scarebucks? Was Shock sure that she knew who she was talking about? The devil boy shook his head briskly, attempting to clear away the disturbing images that suddenly flooded his mind.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not smoking this," said Lock as he discarded the buds in his palm and zipped up the baggie. "If I didn't know any better, those funny-looking leaves almost smelled like…Deadly Nightshade."

The two demon children suddenly fell silent and looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes. Shock snatched the bag back from Lock, opening it up and giving a large whiff. She coughed and wrinkled her nose in disgust, immediately dropping the bag on the ground and spilling some of its contents.

"You're right, you're absolutely right!" she exclaimed. "Now that I think about it, Anastasia knocked over two unlabeled jars in her lair and the two plants must have mixed together when they fell on the floor…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you were going to give me weed that fell on the floor?" Lock interrupted, looking repulsed.

"I was trying to get you more for the money!" Shock replied defensively.

"Whatever, we'll talk about that later." Lock bent down and scooped up the scattered bud, placing it back into the baggie before handing the whole package back to Shock. "If this is in fact contaminated with bits of Deadly Nightshade, it would identify Anastasia as the likely culprit in the murder trial."

"Not that your sophisticated speech isn't convincing, but why the hell would she murder Dr. Finklestein?" asked Shock in bewilderment. The little witch tapped her chin for a moment before muttering under her breath, "Well I don't get why she would _start_ with him…"

"What was that?" asked Lock, leaning in closer.

"Oh, nothing." Shock turned around and began heading towards the exit. "Look, man, I gotta go."

"Wait!" Lock called out. "Why do you have to leave so soon? We didn't even get a chance to catch up."

A flicker of discomfort crossed Shock's face. "I'm sorry," she croaked somewhat awkwardly (mostly due to the fact that she wasn't used to saying 'sorry,' Lock figured). "I have a…appointment."

Lock nodded slightly, looking crestfallen. "Okay," he sighed. "But hey – make sure you keep that baggie safe and untouched until the second trial this Saturday. You can accuse Anastasia for the murder and use that as evidence. She's bound to be found guilty after that, and I'll be set free."

For a moment, Lock could have sworn he saw his playmate's knees buckle. At last Shock nodded in agreement, dashing back towards the door while wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. She gave Lock a curt wave before pulling open that big iron door and disappearing fleetingly behind it.

Lock sighed and fell backwards onto his cot. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and then proceeded to cover his face with his pillow and let out a loud, frustrated groan. Across the way, it sounded like Sally chuckled.


	23. Crushed Velvet

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews, guys! You're great. It always brightens my day reading a new note from somebody who is enjoying this tale. So before we start the next chapter, I just wanted to make a quick note – in this story, certain technology clashes with the time period. I always imagined TNBC taking place in the 1940's or 50's, and therefore so does my story. But I'm sure you've also noticed that the characters use cell phones and text messaging, which obviously didn't exist back then, but…that's a flaw in this tale's historical context that just has to be ignored. I just wanted you folks to know that I am aware of that. :]

"_If we must part forever,_

_Give me but one kind word to think upon,_

_And please myself with, while my heart's breaking."_

_- Thomas Otway_

Jack sat alone in his study, cradling a glass of red wine and listening to Frank Sinatra jazz records. An entire twenty-four hours had passed since Sally had dumped him. He had stopped crying long ago; however he remained almost frozen in a state of shock and disbelief that seemed to have burrowed into the very marrow of his bones. Had Sally _really_ broken up with him? Was she _that_ upset by what he did to her? But why? She must understand that as the king of Halloween Town he can't make unfair exceptions to the rules…and she must know that if the situation really came down to it, he'd never let her near that stake…or does she?

Taking a sip of his wine, Jack reached over to his record player and flipped the large, vinyl disc over on its other side. He immediately heard the beginning's of Frank Sinatra's "Moonlight Serenade" and within moments had once again begun to weep. This was the first song he and Sally had ever danced to on Valentine's Day three years ago. Now more than ever the memories of that night appeared vividly in his mind, swirling around his skull to the delicate tunes coming from the phonograph.

A worried-looking Zero floated silently into the room, brushing past his sobbing master's legs in a gesture of empathy. Jack bent down to scratch the ghost dog between the ears when suddenly his boney elbow knocked a metallic picture frame off of the table next to him. Blinking away his tears, Jack picked up the photo and examined it. Immediately another bubble of anguish welled up in his chest…it was his parents' wedding picture from 1927. Following the anguish, a whole new slew of unwanted memories penetrated the protective barrier around his skull and cascaded like a waterfall into his mind.

In a normal conversation, Jack would tell you that he had a pretty happy childhood. Aside from the occasional bouts of teen angst and mild rebellion phases, he was fairly content growing up as a young skeleton in Halloween Town. However, there was one incident that occurred in his preteen years that he probably wouldn't mention, or at least he would try not to make a big deal out of it, and that was the separation of his beloved parents.

Jane and Christopher Skellington divorced nearly twenty years ago, back in 1941 when Jack was only twelve. Although Jack has heard brief stories from both of his parents as to why the separation occurred, to this day he still isn't sure what the real reason was. His mother said she was merely fed up with Jack's father's drinking, and correspondingly his father complained that Jack's mother didn't understand his inner turmoil. So Jack didn't quite know what to believe. As a child, he was oblivious to any problems between his parents all the way up to the divorce, which is why it came to him as such a shock. And ever since then he's been skeptical of the concept of "forever" in both love and marriage.

It wasn't until he met Sally that this closeted fear had begun to vanish. Of course, he was still careful not to tempt fate (diamond rings tempted fate), but the love he felt for his ragdoll was strong enough to wipe away any concerns of an abrupt ending. Besides, Sally seemed perfectly happy being in a committed relationship with him without the binds and karmas of marriage. Well, that is until now.

Jack sighed miserably and placed the photograph back on the table beside him. "Moonlight Serenade" had come to an end and Jack noticed that his glass of wine was empty. With a considerable amount of effort he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and glancing up at the grandfather clock. _11:55pm. _He yawned and brushed himself off.

"Well Zero, we'd best be off to bed," Jack said to his ghost dog who yipped in agreement.

Just as Jack shut off the record player and collected his wine glass along with the respective bottle of merlot, his doorbell screeched. Grumbling under his breath, he set the wine back down and sauntered over to the front door. He glanced suspiciously through the peephole and then recognized the pale, narrow face of Dimitri Fidatov.

Opening the door reluctantly, Jack greeted the vampire with a brief 'hello.' Then he sighed, adding, "Not to be rude, but…what the hell are you doing here at this hour? I was just about to go to bed."

Dimitri blushed but he didn't look offended. "Oh dear, I apologize to your Majesty," he replied in a thick Transylvanian accent, bowing his head respectfully. "But if I am not mistaken, you invited me to come play cards with you last week."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jack, narrowing his eye sockets in confusion. "Oh! Dimitri, today's Monday. I said come over _Tuesday_ night."

"But it is Tuesday night!" Dimitri held up his wristwatch, which displayed the time _12:00am._ "It is now Tuesday, and it is night!"

Jack sighed again, burying his face in his palms. "Alright," he finally agreed. "Please come inside."

"Wait, Jack," interrupted Dimitri, looking somewhat anxious. "I was just going to say…you should invite Ivan to play cards with you sometime. He's a great guy and a good listener. I think you would really enjoy his company."

Not only was Jack slightly bothered at this point, but he was annoyed. "Alright sure, whatever," he spat impatiently. "Can we just sit down and play some damn cards already?"

Dimitri's eyes lit up. "Ivan, he said okay!" he called down the stairs.

Then out of the shadows emerged the large, bulbous vampire brother, causing Jack's jaw to drop in both surprise and displeasure. Ivan slowly glided up the stairwell to Jack's front porch and stood next to Dimitri, smiling nervously.

"Greetings Mr. Skellington," said Ivan, rubbing his undersized hands together. "I want to thank you for asking me to join you and Dimitri this evening."

Jack continued to stare incredulously at the round vampire in front of him. Dimitri sure played this one like an expert. At last he cleared his throat uneasily and replied, "Yeah, sure. Just wipe your shoes off before coming inside and…stop undressing me with your eyes."

With that he stepped aside, allowing the two giggling vampire brothers to enter. As Jack closed the door he paused for a moment, debating whether or not to slam his head into it. But he merely sighed, surrendering himself to the interesting evening that fate had in store for him. He followed the Fidatovs into the kitchen.

"So where do you keep your libations locked up?" asked Dimitri as he eyed the cupboards above Jack's sink.

"I'm way ahead of you," mumbled Jack, placing two bottles of chardonnay along with the merlot from earlier onto the kitchen table. He reached into the china cabinet and withdrew three crystal wine glasses along with a ceramic ash tray.

"Now normally I don't allow smoking in my home, but tonight I'll make an exception," he said.

"Oh, we don't smoke," replied Dimitri.

"I wasn't referring to you."

Dimitri and Ivan looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Now then, can we get started?" Jack popped the corks on both bottles of chardonnay, filling each of the three glasses to the brim.

"Indeed we shall," Ivan chirped pleasantly. "I brought a deck of cards. What do you guys want to play?"

"Hmm, how about we start with some Speed?" suggested Dimitri.

"Whatever you got," muttered Jack under his breath.

"No, that's just a two-person game," said Ivan. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I've got it! How about we start with an old-school game of Go Fish?"

"That's old-school?" replied Dimitri. "More like preschool."

"Good point. How about Poisonous Jokers?"

"What the heck is that?"

"You haven't heard of it?"

Jack slammed his fists down on the table. "Enough already!" he shouted. "Here. We're playing poker, alright?" He grabbed a handful of rice chips from a box in the pantry and spread them out on the kitchen table next to Ivan's deck of cards.

"We're going to gamble with those?" asked Ivan curiously.

"Yes. We're going to gamble with rice chips and drink wine for an hour. Then you two can be on your merry way and I will finally be able to get some sleep." Jack knew he was being extremely rude to his guests, but he was too pained and exhausted to put on some kind of phony façade.

The normally sensitive vampires nodded eagerly, somehow unaffected by Jack's blatant remarks. They both sat down at the long, rectangular table, Dimitri at the end corner and Ivan directly across from Jack.

Jack sucked in his cheeks and began to hastily shuffle the deck. He refused to make eye contact with Ivan, though he could sense that the large vampire was watching him fondly.

"Alright," Jack said at last. "This is five-card draw. No draw."

"Better watch out boys, I'm feelin' lucky tonight!" Ivan exclaimed. "In more ways that one."

If Jack had eyes, he would have rolled them. "Just play the five cards you're dealt, alright?"

Ivan nodded, clasping his hands together in anticipation.

At last Jack had finished dealing the cards among the three of them, and each player picked up his hand and examined it closely in the candlelight. Jack took a sip of chardonnay.

"Say, Jack," croaked Dimitri hesitantly. "Did I hear correctly that you and Sally are no longer an item?"

Jack nearly choked on his wine. "And where did you hear that?" he inquired suspiciously, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"It's all anybody's talking about."

"Wonderful."

"So…have you met anyone else lately? Been out dancing? Bar-hopping?"

"No, Dimitri," Jack grumbled in irritation. He knew where this conversation was headed. "Sally and I just broke up last night. It will take me at least a few months before I'll even be able to consider the possibility of dating someone else. And even still, I don't think I'll ever stop loving Sally."

Dimitri twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Oh, that's too bad, because…" He nudged Ivan with his elbow, causing the round vampire to jump slightly.

"I, um…" Ivan continued, pulling awkwardly at his collar. "…Well I was wondering if maybe, I don't know…you'd want to go out sometime?" He was sweating profusely. "…Maybe?"

Jack froze and dropped his cards, one of them falling into his glass of wine. Eye sockets narrowing bitterly, he slowly turned his head to the side and glared at Dimitri. "_That's_ why you invited him over tonight? So he could finally ask me out? Are you mad?"

"Please, Jack," Dimitri started. "You must consider –"

"Not a chance," Jack spat back. He turned to face Ivan, who looked horror-stricken. "Look, Ivan…I appreciate your interest…I guess. But for the last time, I am not homosexual. I'm not even _bi_sexual. So please take your queer advances somewhere where they're appropriate."

Ivan and Dimitri were speechless. The two of them sat completely still, faces stark white and oozing with sweat. Jack was equally embarrassed, though he held his firm gaze and tried to breathe evenly. He had hoped he would never be driven to the point of actually telling off the sexually ambiguous vampires, but each hint he ever dropped seemed to blow right over their heads.

At last, Dimitri cleared his throat. "Um…maybe we should go," he said upon rising from his seat at the table. "Come, Ivan."

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Skellington," Ivan added softly. He stood up and followed his brother out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

Jack said nothing but rested his chin on his knuckles. He heard the front door open and close discretely and he blinked, one final tear escaping from the corner of his eye.


	24. Silver Leaf

**Author's Note:** Finally, an update! Sorry guys, work has been crazy busy. But I appreciate you readers staying faithful to this story, and I thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I want to give special thanks to Gothic-Romantic99 for being so insightful and thorough! I sent a message to your inbox thanking you as well. All of you guys are great; I enjoy reading every one of your reviews, so please keep it up! ;] It helps me out a lot as a writer to know what I'm doing well and what needs clearing up. Anyways, cheers to you all!

"_The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and for deeds left undone."_

_- Harriet Beecher Stowe_

Shock took a deep breath, carefully peeling open the crisp white envelope. She had just returned home from Anastasia's crack-house lagoon with her first assignment. Anastasia didn't tell her precisely what it was; only that she wanted it finished by the end of September and that the contents of the envelope would explain the details. Unbearably nervous, Shock withdrew from the envelope a folded piece of paper and with trembling hands she opened it up.

Her brow furrowed curiously. _This is just a list of names,_ she thought. _Helgamine, Zeldaborne, Darla Corpsechild_…She soon realized that every listed resident was a female. Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat and she felt as though tentacles of dry ice had wrapped firmly around her body.

It was then that she knew. This was a hit-list. In precise order and with cunning discretion, Anastasia wanted Shock to murder everyone on this list before the end of the month. That way there would be no females left in town to threaten Anastasia in her pursuit of the crown. And Shock knew that once she was through being Anastasia's assistant, the sea demon would kill her too. (Even though she was young, Shock was still a female – not to mention an _extremely_ informed witness.)

Shock looked at the list. Helgamine and Zeldaborne were both at the top labeled with a number "1," therefore Shock assumed that Anastasia wanted them dead first. She licked her dry lips and folded up the dreaded piece of paper, carefully inserting it back into the envelope. How was she supposed to go about this horrible, horrible task? Could she really _murder_ someone? Shock had done some pretty dishonorable things in her lifetime, but she was not a killer. Besides, whether she chose to do Anastasia's dirty work or not, she was already roped into the scheme so tightly that Shock herself was going to die sooner or later.

Sighing heavily, Shock slipped the envelope under her pillow and trudged across the room to her closet. She opened it reluctantly, cringing as she did, and then proceeded to search its contents. At last her fingers enclosed around a firm wooden handle sticking out from behind a mess of dirty laundry, and she pulled it out into the open. It was an old-fashioned mahogany crossbow. Shock glanced at her wristwatch. It read _12:02pm, _which meant the Witch's Shop had just opened.

She was numb with horrific disbelief for what she was about to do, but like the slave that she was she stuffed the crossbow into a large knapsack and hoisted it up over her shoulder.

Crate and Barrel were still fast asleep in the living room when Shock passed them on her way out, snoring obnoxiously. Though this time, Shock was thankful as their snoring served as a noise buffer to Oogie's bedroom. She couldn't risk acquiring anyone's suspicion at this point. Cigarettes in hand and Lock's wool scarf draped casually over her shoulders, Shock whispered a silent prayer and stepped out of the tree house, closing the door softly behind her.

Her trek across town was slow and solemn. Although nobody knew of her dreadful mission but Anastasia, she hung her head in shame to avoid the imagined scornful gazes of the other townsfolk leering into her, burning holes in her flesh. She then glanced at the scars on her wrist, feeling suddenly asphyxiated. When did she become such a vile, dishonorable creature? She was a destructor of others as well as herself, a sickly phoenix that was rapidly crumbling to ash. But unlike the phoenix, she was never to rise again in greater glory.

At last she spotted the Witch's Shop less than a block away. Incredibly nauseous, she clutched the strap of her knapsack securely and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She continued marching at a steady pace up the street.

A little bell sounded as Shock entered the store, and Helgamine greeted her cheerfully. "Hello, there!" the tall witch called out, sporting a warm, crooked grin. "Were you looking for anything in particular today?"

"Nah, I'm just browsing," Shock grumbled nervously. She hoped the fiery blush on her cheeks wasn't overly conspicuous.

"Alright, dear," replied Helgamine. "Just let us know if you have any questions."

"And just to let you know, Frog's Breath is fifteen percent off if you have a membership card," added Zeldaborne from the other counter.

"Thanks." Shock strolled up and down the isles, pretending to search for a product. She did so for several minutes, when at last she grabbed a small bottle of Newt Juice off the shelf and started to approach the counter. This was it. While Helga processed the payment, Shock would whip out her crossbow and swiftly kill both of the witch sisters. Then she would flee the scene of the crime and go on living her life as normal as she could, in spite of the fact that she would never again sleep peacefully.

"Are you all ready to go?" Helgamine asked sweetly as Shock arrived at the main register.

Shock's heart was racing. She set the Newt Juice down on the counter. "Um, yeah," she croaked. "I'll just take this."

"Sounds good," said Helga. "Are you a club member?"

"No."

"Would you like me to set up an account for you? It's free to join, and each time you use it to make a purchase you earn points towards free rewards."

"No thanks."

"Ah, come on!" egged Zeldaborne from the other counter, flashing a wink in Shock's direction. "You're a witch, too! It only takes a minute to get set up."

Shock pursed her lips, pondering this for a moment. _Well, it would bide me more time, she _thought. "Alright, fine," the little witch finally agreed. "Hook me up."

Helga smiled and began typing away at the keyboard on her cash register.

Hands trembling, Shock set her knapsack on the ground and slowly began to open it up. Her fingertips touched the varnished wooden handle of the crossbow, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. _Just shoot and be gone,_ she commanded herself. Off to the right, Zelda was stirring something in a cauldron, and in the front Helga continued to tinker obliviously with the cash register. Shock gripped the crossbow with a single balmy hand and slowly began to raise it. Still neither of the witch sisters seemed to notice.

_Now's the time,_ Shock thought resolutely. The corners of her vision started to fuse inward and she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

_Ready…_

Her arms were trembling so violently now that she was afraid she'd miss the targets.

_Aim…_

"Now would you like to start with the standard or premium membership, dear?" asked Helgamine as she printed a receipt. There was no response, so she glanced across the counter at Shock. "Did you hear – OH, DEAR LORD!"

Zelda looked up from her cauldron, and upon seeing Shock's elevated crossbow she threw her stubby arms in the air and shrieked as well.

"Please, don't shoot!" pleaded Helgamine. "You can have all the money in the registers, if that's what you want!"

"You can have all of our products and our own broomsticks, too!" added Zeldaborne.

Shock's finger grazed the trigger of her crossbow, but she held her fire. Both of the witch sisters stood quivering in their boots, staring at Shock with wide, desperate eyes, hands raised in surrender. But Shock didn't flinch. Why hadn't she killed them yet? Wasn't the plan to simply shoot and split before the witches even knew what hit them? Another customer could walk in at any moment and spot her at the scene of the crime; then Shock would have to kill him or her, too.

"Just tell us what you want, and you can have it," croaked Helgamine pitifully, a single tear rolling down her acne-covered cheek.

This was too much for Shock. Releasing her breath in a heavy, drawn-out sigh, she slowly lowered the crossbow. "I'm a thief, a floozy and a liar," she muttered dejectedly upon hanging her head in defeat. "But I cannot kill a fellow witch."

Helga and Zelda continued to stare at her, arms in the air and faces frozen in expressions for horror. At last Helga dared to blink an eye, and the muscles in her cheeks and along her jaw line gradually started to relax. She cleared her throat uneasily.

"Wh…what just happened?" the tall witch stammered upon casting a fretful glance towards her sister.

"I don't know…" replied Zelda. "Perhaps the planet Mars is in retrograde?"

"Perhaps..."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it."

Shock let out another guilty sigh and proceeded to stuff the crossbow back into her knapsack, closing it tightly. "I just tried to kill you, that's what happened," the little witch informed them quietly.

Zelda dropped her arms down and then folded them across her chest. "Well, little pigeon, we are quite aware of that," she stated dryly.

"Why did you do that, Shock?" asked Helgamine. Her chestnut-brown eyes were clouded with concern. "Is it because we sent your friend to jail?"

Anxiously twirling a strand of her wispy black hair, Shock replied, "No, no…no. Besides, if you don't remember correctly, _I_ am the one who sent him to jail." She glanced quickly around the shop before standing on her tip-toes to whisper in Helgamine's ear, "Look, I can't tell you why I almost shot you and your sister with a crossbow, but I can tell you this: Both you and Zeldaborne need to get out of town. Today. And fly as fast and far away as your broomsticks will carry you."

A mixture of fear and perplexity distorted Helga's features, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over a fallen spellbook. "What? Why?"

"What did she say?" Zeldaborne called from the other counter.

"She said we need to leave town!"

"What? Why?"

"That's what I've been asking!"

Shock massaged her aching temples. "Please, you two, can you put a sock in it for a moment?" she snapped crudely.

The witch sisters were mildly taken aback, but they stopped talking.

"Like I said, I can't tell you very much, at least not right now," Shock continued. "But someone wants you dead, and skipping town is the only way you can be safe. I promise you can come back someday, but for now…please. Just go."

"How will we know when to come back?" asked Zeldaborne fretfully.

"And can we pack first?" added Helgamine, raising a spindly finger.

Shock glanced at her wristwatch, realizing it was almost one. Anastasia would be requesting an update soon. She hoisted her knapsack onto her back and began heading towards the door.

"Take only what you can carry with your own two hands," she called out over her shoulder. "You must leave immediately. And don't come back for seven days. I should have a handle on things by then…or so I hope."

She left the confused and frightened sisters behind with her warning as she exited the shop, hearing the little bell jingle again dismally. She took off at a sprint down the block, and it wasn't until she reached the smoking bench outside of Skully's that she felt her cell phone vibrate in her coat pocket.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she withdrew the device and wiped the lint off of the screen with her sleeve. She squinted to read the notification. _1 new message from Anastasia F. _With a quivering finger she tapped the screen, causing the text message to unfurl in a pixilated mess of bad graphics.

Four simple words inquired: _Did you kill them?_

Shock sat down on the bench and wiped her brow. She expanded her phone to reveal the keypad, and without a moment of hesitation she typed her response and pushed 'send.'

_Yes._


	25. Smoked Peach

**Author's Note:** Thank you guys dearly for the reviews! All feedback is very much coveted and appreciated. I love when someone points out a pun or innuendo, and I'm so glad you guys are eating up all of the drama and suspense. I apologize for the long gaps in between updates…I try to squeeze out at least one chapter per week. Thank you for remaining faithful to this tale, I promise there's much more excitement to come before we reach our conclusion!

p.s. I just found out the other day that there is a character in Batman named Harley Quinn. Which, coincidentally, is the same name I gave to the harlequin demon in this story – I promise, that was a freak accident! I chose that name because it is essentially the word 'harlequin' split in two. Guess I'm not the first 'punny' writer, am I?

p.s.s. If you happen to want to be friends on Facebook, feel free to send me a message via Fanfiction and we can work something out. :]

"_Truth breeds hatred."_

_- Bias of Priene, Maxims_

The sun rose and fell over Halloween Town three more times following that regretful weekend, and the days passed just the same for everybody…sad, quiet and lonely. Many of the local shops experienced so little business during that time that they were forced to close early and cut some of their employees. However coffee houses seemed to remain popular hotspots, mostly because they served as bins of marinade for juicy gossip. And as the date of the second trial grew nearer, more and more citizens displayed anticipation and became increasingly steadfast to their personal opinions.

As far as Jack was concerned, there was no point in leaving his house or doing anything productive now that Sally was gone from his life. It seemed the only times he set foot outside the front door was to make trips to the liquor store or to recycle another bin full of wine and whiskey bottles. At first he was very ashamed of his behavior mostly because it reminded him of his father, but the pain of his loss was so overwhelming he felt nothing could temporarily sooth his aching heart better than the warm, numbing sensation of alcohol.

The Mayor became so fed up with Jack's hermit-like behavior that on Wednesday evening he arrived uninvited at Jack's doorstep and dragged the Pumpkin King out to Grimm's Grill for karaoke night. But while the Mayor was up on stage belting out the lyrics to Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You," a drunken fight broke out in the middle of the bar between Chucky McClown and Hanging Tree. Chucky took a swing at one of the tree's branches and injured Bert, the eldest hanging man, so he was briskly escorted out of the building by the Grimm's Grill security team. The paramedics were called to assist Bert and the Hanging Tree, and after they arrived the Mayor reluctantly agreed to walk a drunk and distraught Jack home.

Down in the Halloween Town dungeon, the same humdrum solitude enshrouded our inmates like a thick, musty fog. Sally didn't do much but sleep all day, while Lock, who had given up trying to coax the ragdoll out of her comatose state, just sat in his cell and smoked weed until he was caught and given seven lashes. Unfortunately Boris, the friendly night guard, had gone out of town on vacation that week and was replaced by Lars, a not-so-friendly devil who was normally employed on the second floor of the dungeon. Lars' deplorable presence sucked up any last shred of pleasantry that existed for Lock in this stone-gated hell.

Meanwhile, back in the tree house, Barrel and Oogie went about their usual businesses while Shock embarked on three more futile murder missions. Still she was unable to actually kill anyone, but at least she didn't have to worry about Anastasia finding out about Darla Corpsechild because that woman never left the house anyways. On the other hand, when the time arrived to dispose of Sasha, a small bat demon as well as Lexi, a young sorceress, Shock was forced to give them the same warning as she did the witch sisters. She never stayed around long enough to confirm that her "victim" actually did leave town as instructed, but she remained hopeful that the trial would arrive soon enough to cast off her shackles and put the real criminal in her place.

As dusk befell Halloween Town on Friday, the eve of the second trial, Jack sat alone in his study, anxiously tracing the rim of his half-empty wine glass with his finger. Tomorrow morning, a decision was to be made. Whether the accused was truly guilty or not, someone would have to pay, and Jack hoped to God it wasn't going to be Sally.

Throughout Jack's ten-year reign he had never executed anybody. The worst punishment he'd ever issued was a fifteen-year jail sentence along with four-hundred hours of community service, and that was for a ghoul who had accidentally pushed his young friend into the Dark River (the victim had drowned in the rapids). But then again, he'd also never experienced a case of first-degree murder. And in the town declaration it was distinctly written that "any resident of Halloween Town found guilty of manslaughter shall promptly be put to death at the stake regardless of atonement."

_**Saturday morning. September 14**__**th**__**, 1961. The Finklestein Case, Day 2.**_

"Rise and shine, kiddos, we gotta get going!"

Lock rolled over in his cot, squinting at the sudden burst of bright light. He noticed Boris approaching from down the corridor holding a lantern in one hand and his keys in the other. Beside him trekked Lars, looking gruff and unpleasant as usual, who carried two sets of iron shackles.

Sitting upright, Lock rubbed the sleep from his eyes and murmured, "Geeze, Boris. What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock in the a.m.," answered Boris. "We gotta hurry, the trial starts at seven-thirty!"

Lock's heart jumped into his throat. _Today is the day,_ he thought. _Somebody is going to be sentenced to die. _Suddenly petrified, he remained seated on his bed, spine erect, as Boris unlocked the cell and approached him with one of Lars' shackles. The abrupt iciness of the iron sent a shock through his wrists, but without resistance he stood up and followed Boris out into the corridor.

Across the way, Lars stormed into Sally's cell, shook her awake and chained her up without a word. Lock watched pitifully as her face turned pale with dread; she looked both frightened and disoriented as Lars hauled her out into the hallway like a helpless animal. Then Boris nodded the signal to Lars, and the four ghouls began their march, silent and unwavering, out of the dungeon.

At last they reached the rear entrance to the Town Hall. Muffled mutterings could be heard from within, and Lock cast Sally a nervous glance. The ragdoll's facial expression was unreadable, though Lock interpreted her calm, quiet composure as a prospect of downfall. On the other hand, Lock's own tremors caused his chains to rattle audibly. Boris patted the devil child supportively on the shoulder before he turned the handle on the large back door and then motioned for the incriminated crew to step inside.

The Town Hall was packed to the brim with what appeared to be every resident along with his or her entire family. Even the people who hadn't been at Jack's party had come just to observe this humiliating spectacle. I mean, who wasn't a basket case for drama in this town? And besides, Lock figured the public would be satisfied either way: the termination of one of Boogie's Boys would certainly be a cause for celebration, and if it ended up being Sally who was convicted then there would be a hundred desperate women looking to get with Jack. _Why should anyone show any mercy?_ Lock pondered this for a moment. _Hmm. Spite, perhaps?_

Dutifully Lock and Sally followed the guards to center stage where a large, horizontal beam now hung from the ceiling. Lars and Boris each chained their prisoners to the beam so that Lock and Sally stood helplessly with their shackled arms suspended above their heads.

Now utterly humiliated, Lock searched through the scathing faces in the crowd until he spotted the giant burlap sack seated in the far right corner. It was Oogie, and he was gazing upon Lock with an emotion he rarely ever displayed: compassion. Next to him sat Barrel, whose features were equally distorted, periodically taking swigs from a small metal flask. But where was Shock?

At that moment Lock's vision flashed to the furthermost row of the crowd, and it was back near the door that he saw Anastasia sitting quietly, her tailfin grazing the floor beneath her seat. Of course! Shock was supposed to come to the rescue today! Lock mentally slapped himself. But why wasn't she here? Lock hoped she was alright…

Suddenly a harsh pounding interrupted the crowd's chatter and Lock's silent quandaries and everyone glanced up at the Mayor's podium, where said official sat holding a wooden gavel.

"Order, order!" he shouted, tapping the gavel a few more times. Once the Town Hall was completely hushed, he continued, "Let us begin. I ask everyone in this building to remain silent throughout the duration of this trial unless you are called upon by the council to testify. Now, without further adieu, please welcome Jack Skellington and the two witnesses to the crime."

With that, the back door opened and onto the stage stepped Jack with the witch sisters, Helgamine and Zeldaborne.

Lock returned his gaze to the crowd and he suddenly noticed Anastasia looking extremely disconcerted. Her tailfin flashed angrily and she immediately whipped out her cell phone, madly and rather conspicuously texting.

Before Lock could give it a second thought, Jack declared, "As the first order of business, I want to ask if anybody has any more suspects to be nominated. If you want to speak up, please do so now, otherwise I'd like to report a follow-up incident that might help us reach a decision." He glanced at Helgamine and Zeldaborne, and then at Lock. "The witch sisters brought something important to my attention."

He waited but the Town Hall remained silent; in fact it was so silent that you could hear a pin drop from across the room.

"Is there anyone else who would like to make an accusation?" repeated the Mayor.

Silence.

"Going once, going twice…?"

Someone coughed, though still not a word was uttered.

"Alright then. Jack, please continue."

The Pumpkin King stepped up to his own podium on the other side of the stage and cleared his throat nervously. "The other day, Helgamine approached me to report something crucial that happened in the Witch's Shop last Tuesday morning. Apparently, she and Zeldaborne were held at gunpoint while processing a membership certificate at the register. The culprit was confirmed to be Shock Dionowitch; she entered the shop unaccompanied that morning and proceeded to withdraw a loaded crossbow from her knapsack, positioning it in a threatening manner towards the shop owners."

The crowd gasped, and Lock noticed Oogie and Barrel staring at each other in disbelief. Their expressions seemed to read something like, 'Did she tell _you_ about this?'

"However it is important to note," Jack continued loudly, "that nobody was actually harmed at the scene of the crime. It appears that Shock neglected to pull the trigger and even half-heartedly apologized for her actions."

"But she did mention something awfully peculiar and worth examining," added Helgamine, stepping forward so that she was right in between Jack at his podium and Lock chained to the beam. "She said that she was sent by someone else to kill me and my sister. And thus I have concluded that whoever that may be must also be the same person who killed Dr. Finklestein during the Labor Day celebration."

Anxious mutterings swept through the audience, and then someone blurted out, "Then it must be Lock! After all, he did poison Stephen Wolfe and I heard that he's been in close contact with Shock ever since he was incarcerated."

"Yeah!" shouted somebody else. "He also does a lot of drugs. What if he's turned into a serial killer?"

"If I do recall," said Boris somewhat hesitantly. "Shock came to the dungeon one day to visit him, and when she left I noticed she was looking rather distressed. And that could explain why she accused him in the first place!"

"It's gotta be Lock, then."

"It has to be!"

"He's probably a psychopath."

"Away with him, before he kills anyone else!"

"Let that devil burn in hell, where he belongs!"

"Guilty! Guilty!"

All of this steadfast taunting blared in Lock's ears like a deafening siren. Sweat poured in rivers down his face and neck, and his heart was beating so rapidly he thought it might burst from his chest. Where was Shock with that tainted weed? She was his only hope at this point. And as the citizens became increasingly resolute towards their decision, the minutes he had left for any chance of salvation were rapidly ticking away.

"It seems the jury has reached a verdict," the Mayor announced at last, tapping his gavel to silence the crowd. Then he turned to face the two convicts, who stared back up at him with helpless, pleading eyes. Taking a deep breath and loosening his collar, he finally said, "Lock Deville, you have been found guilty of the murder of one of our most respected citizens, along with the attempt of killing two others. Under the Halloween Town constitution I hereby sentence you to –"

"Wait!" a shrill voice suddenly echoed through the hall. Everyone turned around to face the front entrance, and there stood Shock, breathing heavily and holding up a bag of something green. "Lock is innocent! I know who the real killer is, and I have proof!"


	26. Junkshow

**Author's Note:** We're nearing the end of our tale, folks! However, plenty more excitement will ensue, so stay tuned…I plan to keep each and every one of you on the edge of your seats until the very last word. ;] Thank you so very much for the wonderful reviews! I hate to sound cheesy but your kind words really mean a lot to me. Enjoy!

"_This is a court of law, young man, not a court of justice."_

_- Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr._

Everyone turned their attention to the flustered little witch at the entrance. She was bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. It was obvious she had been running.

"Please…just hold on…" she rasped, waving the sack of green stuff in the air. "I can prove it wasn't Lock! Just please tell me there's still time."

"Too late, half-pint, it's over," Anastasia snickered from the far corner.

"How 'bout you just shut up for once, Shark Bait."

Anastasia's eyes widened to the size of tennis balls, and within them danced a flame of hostility. Her scaly lips emitted a vicious snarl.

"I'm not scared," Shock stated defiantly. "You know why? 'Cause I've got your dice in a vice, sister."

"You dirty little street rat!" Anastasia rose from her seat and advanced threateningly towards Shock, only to be successfully restrained by both Stephen Wolfe and Mr. Hyde.

Up on the stage, Jack stood grasping the edges of his podium, skull cocked to one side in confusion. He glanced over at the Mayor, who was observing the spectacle before him looking equally bemused. What beef could Shock and Anastasia possibly have with each other? Jack didn't know that they had ever even spoken. Maybe Shock stole the tip jar from Scarebucks one day so Anastasia spit in her drink…?

Jack's silent train of thought was interrupted by several loud _thwacks_ of the Mayor's gavel. "Order, order!" the cone-shaped official called once again into the hall.

Once everybody had returned their attention back to the council, he bellowed, "I ask once again that all beings not requested to testify remain silent until the court is dismissed. Now, before we do anything hasty, Miss Dionowitch, would you care to explain your objection?"

"Yes, yes I would," replied Shock as she scurried through the center isle and hopped up onto the stage. She took a moment to compose herself before turning around to face the crowd. Taking a deep breath, she firmly declared, "I call Anastasia Finn to the stand!"

"What?" the sea demon cried incredulously.

"You heard me!"

"Nice try, but the trial's already over and the guilty party affirmed. You're too late."

Shock merely smirked. "You got about ten seconds to get your scaly ass up here."

"Is she allowed to speak to me that way?" Anastasia demanded.

Sucking in his cheeks, the Mayor beckoned her with his fingers. "Miss Finn, please come forward."

Suddenly looking extremely self-conscious, the Undersea Gal reluctantly stood up and headed towards the front of the room. The townsfolk stared at her as she walked but she paid them no attention; the entire time her piercing yellow eyes were fixed firmly on Shock, swirling with spite and resentment.

"Please have a seat," instructed the Mayor. He motioned to the small wooden stool at the foot of his podium.

Albeit grudgingly, Anastasia did as she was told.

The Mayor cued Jack, and the Pumpkin King straightened up, clearing his throat. "Miss Dionowitch," he spoke nervously, "Would you mind starting out with what brought you here today? I mean…to the board of prosecution?"

Shock nodded eagerly, and then held up the baggy so it was in plain view of the jury. "Inside this bag," she began, "is forty dollars worth of bud."

Jack mentally rolled his eyes, though he resisted interrupting the young witch. He just hoped that she wasn't only here to brag about her latest score.

"However," Shock continued, "the other day Lock and I discovered that it not only contains your most common strain of marijuana, but also a small amount of micro-ground Deadly Nightshade."

A wind of gasps swept through the crowd. The citizens murmured anxiously amongst themselves while Shock grinned self-righteously, turning the baggy over in her palm.

Suddenly Moe, the youngest of the Hanging Tree's hanging men called out, "Wait! What does that have to do with this trial?"

"Don't you see?" Shock insisted. "This is the same Deadly Nightshade that was used to taint Dr. Finklestein's glass of wine!"

Moe covered his face sheepishly. "I knew that…" he whimpered. The Hanging Tree reached up and patted his shoulder.

"Anyways, I think it's important to point out that I didn't purchase this forty-sack from my usual dealer," said Shock.

"And who is your usual dealer?" asked Jack suspiciously.

"Billy. But that's beside the point."

"Gee, thanks a lot!" shouted Billy from the second row.

Shock ignored him. "As I was saying, I actually purchased this weed from the grower herself…who happens to be none other than Anastasia Finn."

Gasps erupted once again from the audience and everyone stared at Anastasia in disbelief. Jack too was flabbergasted, and his jaw fell open so quickly it almost came unhinged. Anastasia was a weed grower? Anastasia _Finn?_ The competent Scarebucks barista? The wannabe enchantress, the bane of Jack's undead existence?

"You have no proof!" Anastasia shouted back defensively. "Besides, even if I did give you that weed – and I'm not saying that I did – how does that make _me_ the murderer? There are a lot of places that grow Deadly Nightshade in this town."

Shock's smug expression remained. "I thought someone might inquire that," she replied. "So I brought this." She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. She opened it up, carefully smoothing the creases, and sauntered over to Jack's podium where the skeleton was watching her uneasily. She laid it out before him and pointed to the first names on what appeared to be a list.

Jack peered down at the sheet of paper and scrutinized the text beneath her tiny finger. _Helgamine and Zeldaborne,_ it read. He glanced over his shoulder at the two witch sisters standing behind him, then down at the paper, and then finally back at Shock. She was smiling up at him confidently.

"I'll just give you a minute to put it together," she said.

Jack's brow furrowed. Although he realized that Helgamine and Zeldaborne were the two prime witnesses of the crime, not to mention they had nearly been shot by Shock herself just a couple of days ago, he didn't understand what this piece of paper had to do with any of that.

"I'm sorry," he replied awkwardly after several moments. "You'll have to elaborate a little further."

Shock snatched the list off of Jack's desk and returned to center-stage, holding it up in front of the audience. "This piece of paper," she explained, "is a list of names that Anastasia gave to me the same day I bought the weed from her. And if you look carefully you'll notice that it contains the name of every female resident in Halloween Town, excluding her own."

Anastasia's face turned stark white. Her blazing eyes narrowed, and she glared at Shock menacingly. "How dare you…" she snarled.

"Ha!" Shock shouted triumphantly. "So you admit it?"

The Undersea Gal crossed her arms over her chest protectively. "I admit to nothing. I just can't believe I trusted you."

"I'm one of Boogie's Boys – er, girl. You should have known better than to put all of your eggs in my basket."

"What?"

Shock took a moment and laid a finger to her lips. "No, I'm sticking with that; that makes sense!"

Skull throbbing in both frustration and perplexity, Jack slammed his fist down on his desk and demanded, "Will you please just get to the punch line already, Shock? All anybody wants to know is how you figure all of this evidence points to Anastasia. Not to say that it isn't obvious that she's done something wrong, but please; once and for all, just tell us: why, out of _all_ of the monsters in this town, do you accuse Anastasia of murdering Dr. Finklestein?"

The sly grin returned to Shock's face and she chuckled darkly, the shadow of her witch's hat obscuring her eyes. "First I should probably let you know that she tried to recruit me as her undercover hit-man. She said it was my job to rid the town of all females so she could finally get next to Jack and become queen of Halloween."

Again, the crowd gasped.

"Is that why you almost shot us with a crossbow?" asked Zeldaborne.

"Indeed," Shock said simply.

Jack contemplated her puzzling claims for a moment. A rather large part of him wanted to believe the young witch, mostly because that would let Sally off the hook for sure, but something still wasn't adding up. "So why would Anastasia murder Dr. Finklestein?" he finally asked. "He's not a female."

Shock spun around and stared the culprit straight in the eye. "I think it's safe to assume that Anastasia put the Deadly Nightshade in the Doctor's drink at the party in order to prevent him from creating any more females."

Anastasia jumped to her feet, bursting at the seams with rage. "You idiot, the drink was supposed to be for her!" She was pointing at an alarmed-looking ghoul in the front row with a patchwork dress and stitches covering her body. It was Sally.

Jack's jaw fell open once again in utter disbelief. _Anastasia meant to kill Sally at the party! But Sally must have left her drink with Dr. Finklestein before she could take a sip…_Jack then noticed that his dumbfounded expression was paralleled by nearly everyone in the audience, least of all his ex-lover.

After several agonizing moments of silence, the Mayor finally coughed and murmured, "I guess…I'll take that as a confession. Anastasia Finn, you have pleaded guilty to the first-degree murder of Dr. Finklestein, and therefore I sentence you to…" He paused and looked at Jack. "To…?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Jack continued, "…To three days in prison until the council has decided your punishment. Your final sentencing shall be declared Tuesday morning before noon. Until then…may you stew in the dungeons, you sick, twisted mollusk."

With that, Behemoth and Boris grabbed Anastasia by the arms and clamped two metal shackles over her wrists. Spitting and snarling like a rabid beast, the Undersea Gal struggled fiercely against the guards' clutches as they began dragging her across the stage towards the back door.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Shock!" she shrieked. "You will pay for what you did to me today, mark my words! You good-for-nothing chain-smoking big-nosed brat!"

"Bye-bye, now!" Shock waved impertinently as Boris and Behemoth pulled the seething killer though the back door, shutting it tightly behind them.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Jack and the rest of the citizens were speechless; it was Shock who brushed her hands together victoriously and then spoke, "I'm glad that's settled. Perhaps we could release the ghouls chained to the ceiling right about now?"

Lars, who stood over by the witch sisters, glanced nervously at Jack for a signal of approval. Startled out of his daze, Jack hurriedly nodded and snapped his fingers in the direction of Lock and Sally. Tentatively Lars approached the two defendants, withdrew his key and released them from their public imprisonment.

Lock's hands dropped to his sides and he massaged his wrists tenderly. "Thank God," he said with an added sigh of relief. "I was starting to lose feeling in my fingertips."

All of a sudden, the crowd burst into cheers and applause, causing Shock and the council members to jump slightly. Immediately Shock bounded over to her liberated playmate and embraced him, much to Jack's surprise.

"We did it, Lug Head!" the little witch exclaimed.

"You're damn right, we did!" Lock cried in exultance.

Somewhat hesitantly, Jack approached the two demon children and bent down to shake Shock's tiny hand. She responded pleasantly with a curt nod, as if to say 'don't mention it.'

"Really, Shock, I want to thank you," said Jack. "If it wasn't for you, well…let's just say it would have been an innocent dragged to his or her doom through that back door."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Shock bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck. "But you'd be mistaken if you think that I've crossed over to the good side just because I wanted to get back at that sea bitch for what she did. I'm still the best Goddamn prankster this town has ever seen, and I don't plan on giving up that title any time soon."

Chuckling softly, Jack stood up straight and brushed off his suit. "I didn't expect that you would."

"Just don't let your guard down, Bone Boy. I'm no Sally Finklestein." She winked at him before scampering after Lock into the exuberant crowd.

Jack's nonexistent heart skipped a beat. _Sally!_ He glanced around the room frantically, searching for the angelic, blue-skinned face of his ex-lover…

At last he spotted her center-stage, gazing forlornly out into the sea of celebrating citizens. Her hands were folded delicately over her thigh; she looked distant, aloof, and fragile. Slowly and carefully Jack approached her, and finally he mustered up the courage to call out her name. "Sally…!"

The ragdoll turned her head in Jack's direction and she noticed him gazing at her expectantly. But she didn't smile, she didn't even blink. She just walked away.


	27. Rustic Melody

**Author's Note:** Oh my goodness! I think at most this might be the fourth-to-last chapter, including the epilogue. See, I have the rest of the story planned out in my mind; it's just a matter of transferring it all onto paper in the form of coherent, semi-fluid sentences. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy…and alas, this'll be the last time we hear our tale from the third-person point of view of Lock, Shock and Barrel. So savor this chapter, my friends! It marks the end of a perspective…but not yet the end of our novel. ;]

"_We could never have loved the Earth so well if we had no childhood in it."_

_- George Eliot_

The sun began its gradual rise over the hills rather early the next morning as Lock, Shock and Barrel were taking one of their leisurely strolls through town. Although it was quite unlike them to be out of bed before noon, the trio couldn't sleep much the night before and they thought they might find some solace away from the tree house (and Oogie's snoring).

Their trek was slow and silent. Despite the fact that the second trial was over and the true murderer exposed, the same solemn, dreary atmosphere that had first descended upon the town after Jack's party remained. The streets were barren and virtually noiseless. The bitter winds that blew in from over the moor smelled of death. Strangely it felt like nothing was the same; yet nothing had changed.

As they passed the Town Hall, Shock craned her neck back to catch a quick glimpse of the gateway to the Tomb of Tears, where the dungeons were located. The little witch was definitely satisfied that Anastasia had finally been put where she belonged, but for some reason she couldn't ignore the nagging twinge of guilt that tugged at her heartstrings. Since when did Shock, the most brazen, vile and cunning trick-or-treater in Halloween Town feel remorseful? Was it because for once, she had actually done the _right_ thing by disclosing the ways of the real criminal and saving the lives of two innocents? Nah, that couldn't be it…could it?

Suddenly Barrel stopped in his tracks, causing his playmates to stumble.

Shock tipped her hat back and rubbed her eyes, startled. "Dude, Barrel, are you okay?"

"Yeah, man, what the hell?" snorted Lock, brushing off his red onesie.

Barrel was staring up at the sky, looking mildly troubled. He pointed with his finger and mumbled, "There's a storm coming."

Shock and Lock followed his gaze and the three of them watched disconcertedly as a flock of dark clouds swallowed up the sun, covering everything in shadow. A sharp crackle of thunder echoed throughout the town and heavy rain began pouring out of the sky like a waterfall. Groaning resentfully, the children took off running towards the sidewalk shops where they sought shelter beneath a wide awning.

"So much for our stroll," growled Shock. "Did anyone think to bring an umbrella?"

"No, because Needle-Nose here said it wasn't supposed to rain today," replied Barrel as he cast Lock an irritated glance.

Lock crossed his arms, taken aback. "Hey! It's not my fault, I was just going by the facts; red sky at night, sailor's delight. I guess Mother Nature didn't get with the program."

"Forget it," mumbled Shock. "What do you guys want to do now?"

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Lock suggested, "Well, we could either go and get kicked out of a bar again, or we could grab a cup of coffee at Scarebucks."

"I vote the latter," said Barrel.

"Alright, fine," Shock agreed as she fiddled with the buttons on her jacket. Then she abruptly spun around and started heading up the block. "I am curious to know who will replace Anastasia as the head barista or whatever."

The three friends scurried past several shops (most of which were closed) before they reached the entrance to Scarebucks.

Taking a moment to wring out her hat at the doorstop, Shock peered through the streaky Plexiglas windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was behind the cash wrap. She could vaguely identify a silhouette of what looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. With her brow raised in curiosity, the little witch pulled open the front door and she and her playmates stepped inside the coffee house.

"Oh my God," whispered Lock as they were making their way over to the cash register. "Do you see who that is?"

Barrel's eyes widened incredulously. "It's Igor!"

"Get out of here," said Shock as she stood on her tiptoes for a better look. "Holy crap, you're right! How in hell's bathroom did Igor get a job at Scarebucks?"

"Guess they figured anyone would be better fit than a homicidal maniac to make drinks for the public," Lock muttered dryly under his breath.

"No shit," replied Shock. "Even if 'anyone' is a speech-impaired meth-addicted lab rat."

"Huh," Barrel mused.

Shock chuckled. "Well, why don't you two find us a table and I'll buy us some drinks."

Lock's ears perked up and he nudged Barrel teasingly. "Wow, Shock's buying! This is a historic occasion."

"Just grab us a booth by the window," grumbled Shock as she stepped in line to order.

When she reached the cash wrap, Igor greeted her with an incoherent grunt. Subtly rolling her eyes, Shock withdrew her wallet and said, "Alright, I need a tall Americano with two inches of steamed soy, a doppio espresso and a tall breve latte."

Igor grunted again, looking dissatisfied. He attempted to cross his stubby arms.

Exasperated, Shock stared at him. "Please?"

The hunchback then smiled and bobbed his head eagerly. He swiped Shock's coffee card and printed her receipt, but when she tried to take it from him he pulled it back a little, sort of playfully. Shock rolled her eyes again and snatched the piece of paper out of his hand, leaving Igor chortling giddily as she walked away.

"Geeze, what a weirdo," Shock muttered upon sitting down in the booth that Lock and Barrel had claimed.

"Why, what did he do?" inquired Lock.

Shock shook her head slightly and lit a cigarette. "I don't know," she replied. "I think in his own 'Igor' way, he was trying to flirt with me."

Lock and Barrel both snorted humorously before preparing cigarettes of their own.

The children sat quietly for a minute and simply listened to the sound of heavy raindrops pattering on the rooftop. Shock and Lock were having a silent competition over who could blow the most smoke rings while Barrel glanced over at the espresso bar to check the status of their drinks.

Then Lock piped up, "So do you guys think Jack's gonna have Anastasia be burned at the stake?"

"I'd say there's about a fifty-fifty chance," said Barrel. "So I don't think so."

"That's not fifty-fifty, you bimbo," corrected Shock as she tapped her cigarette on the rim of the table's ash tray.

Barrel scowled at her.

"Yeah, I don't think he will either," Lock continued, ignoring them. "I just don't think it's in his nature to wish death upon someone. He'll probably just pitch 'er in jail for the rest of her life or something."

"I don't know about that," Shock replied rather skeptically. "He seems like he's adamantly against her. Not only that, but she tried to harm Sally. I don't think there's any way we can tell for sure what he and the rest of the council will decide until Tuesday morning when they actually announce it."

Lock and Barrel both nodded their heads and the trio was silent for another minute. Then Barrel suddenly slammed his fist down and demanded, "Where the hell is our coffee?"

"That is a damn good question," growled Shock, stepping out of the booth. "I'm gonna go see what's taking Quasimodo so long."

The little witch approached the coffee counter and leaned over the hand-off plane. She spotted Igor ducked under the sink preparing something in a bong.

"Yo, barista!" she shouted impatiently. "Are our drinks ready yet?"

Twitching almost hypo-manically, Igor slowly turned his head and stared Shock straight in the eye. "Is ready when I say is ready," he rasped.

Shock huffed angrily and threw her arms up in defeat. She briskly spun around and then suddenly with a loud, painful _thunk_ she found herself on the ground next to Stephen Wolfe.

"Ouch," she grumbled, rubbing the small of her back. "Watch where you're going, Wolf Man!"

"It's not my fault, you didn't signal!" the werewolf barked back. "Ack, I think I sprained my tail. Can you help me up?"

Before Shock could respond, Lock came rushing over to the accident. "Here, I got you," he said. Then with one mighty tug, he hoisted Stephen to his feet. "Why don't you come and sit down with us at our booth? I think I might have brought some gauze in my knapsack for your tail."

"What kind of guy walks around with his own gauze?" Shock asked sarcastically.

Lock glared at her, looking offended. "A guy who's prepared," he replied.

With that, the two children led Stephen over to their table and motioned for him to sit down next to Barrel.

"Wow, this is surprisingly nice of you," said Stephen warily as he scooted into the booth. "I'm not gonna get hurt, am I?"

"Of course not," Lock reassured him. "I mean, this is the least I could do for accidentally poisoning you at Jack's party."

Stephen chuckled heartily, but his smile quickly faded.

"Say, why do you look so glum, Mr. Wolfe?" asked Barrel, crushing his finished cigarette in the ashtray. "It's not like you."

Shock raised an eyebrow at her green-haired playmate. "What are you doing, weirdo?"

"What; a person can't make an observation?" snapped Barrel defensively.

"Thank you for your concern, Barrel," said Stephen. He let out a heavy sigh. "I guess it'd make sense to tell you. I just got back from visiting Anastasia in the dungeon."

The three tricksters' mouths fell open. They stared at each other incredulously for several moments, and then they all looked back up at Stephen. The werewolf was twiddling his furry thumbs nervously.

"No offense, dude," Shock began, "but why the _hell_ would you visit that psycho-maniac in prison? She could have pulled you through the bars and killed you."

"I was the one she contacted with her free phone call," he replied softly. "I never told this to anyone, but…well…she and I had a fling last June. It was a summer romance…but alas, like most things of the sort, it ended by mid-August."

Again, the children were speechless. Stephen Wolfe and Anastasia? So did that mean now that pigs had wings and Santa Claus was the antichrist?

"I dumped her because she wouldn't stop flirting with Jack," Stephen continued without request. "We hadn't talked since then, but…I just wanted to see her one last time before…well you know."

Shock shook her head in disbelief. Summer fling? _Those_ two? Now the night terrors were going to start again. She cleared her throat awkwardly and then asked, "So…what did she have to say to you when you went to see her?"

"Well, unfortunately there's some strict 'no visiting killers' rule so Boris whisked me away before she could really say much of anything," replied Stephen, looking pained. "But she did get the chance to slip me this note…"

Lock, Shock and Barrel watched curiously as Stephen withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from the breast pocket of his flannel button-up shirt. Exerting a great amount of discretion regarding any quidnuncs within earshot, he carefully unfolded the note and laid it flat on the table for the group to read silently:

_My dearest Stephen,_

_It seems too long we have been apart…I was foolish to let you go the way I did. I see now that Jack Skellington and the rest could never compare to what we had…I hope you can forgive my selfishness, and I hope that you will think of me sometimes when you walk by the river._

_I know I've been thinking of you._

_However, there is one last thing I need to request of you: kill Shock and throw her body in my lake. I don't care how you do it but you must get it done. Her smug little half-smile…the way she brashly degraded me in front of all of Halloween Town…that is something that will haunt me until the day I die, which I'm sure is soon._

_With all my love,_

_Anastasia_

Shock's stomach lurched. "So…Anastasia still wants me dead?" she croaked as she nervously picked at her cuticles.

Stephen nodded, looking somber. "I feel like that's the only reason she really wanted to see me," he said. "But don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you."

Chuckling slightly, Shock muttered under her breath, "Yeah, right. Like you could take me on."

The werewolf ignored her, and instead just let out a long sigh and buried his face in his palms.

At that moment, Igor sauntered over to their booth holding three steaming mugs. He set them down rather carelessly on the edge of the table and gave the group a curt grunt before shuffling off.

"Finally!" Barrel shouted, relieved. He grabbed his breve latte and sipped it pleasurably.

"Oh, I'm sorry Stephen," said Lock. "I would offer to buy you a coffee but we've seriously been waiting on this order for like, twenty minutes."

"It's quite alright," Stephen replied, smiling weakly. "I'm caffeine intolerant anyways."

The four of them were still and quiet after that. They merely sat and drank their coffee, and Lock gave Stephen a cigarette which he lit out of subjugation. Shock could tell that each one of them, in their own miserable way, was silently grieving for the way things used to be…before the betrayal. Before the sorrow. Before the blood.

The little witch sighed, finally allowing all of the anguish she had withheld in her heart for so long to seep through the augmenting aortic cracks and encompass her soul. Lock held her hand as the tears gushed out of her eyes, and together they sat, listening to the steady hum of the espresso grinder and watching the rain fall out the window.


	28. Chartreuse

**Author's Note:** Only two chapters left after this one, guys. So hold on to your britches! Though we are close, we're not quite finished yet. And another big thank-you once again to my faithful reviewers. You guys are such bright, colorful rays of light in my life! Sorry this chapter is shorter than most. But I did that for a reason. So just sit back and enjoy, my friends!

"_More grievous than tears is the sight of them."_

_- Antonio Porchia_

At last Tuesday had arrived, and the news of the council's decision spread like wildfire. Anastasia was to be executed on Thursday, September 19th at 3 o'clock in the Town Square.

The Mayor, who was ever so distressed about the town's lack of preparation for this year's upcoming Halloween, had called for a mandatory pumpkin-carving event Tuesday night in the Town Hall. It was there that several curious citizens dared to approach him about the newly-decided fate of the Undersea Gal, and he reluctantly made the announcement. Strangely however, nobody cheered, or even looked the least bit satisfied. Nobody looked dissatisfied either, but instead everyone just seemed to have relaxed a bit. Even the bloodthirsty hotheads who had demanded justice and revenge at the second trial had little or nothing to say. The citizens just carved their pumpkins quietly while Shock, Helgamine and Zeldaborne offered free palm and tarot readings for those who met their quota within the first hour.

In the mean time, Sally had gone back to live with Igor in the Doctor's lab. Throughout the course of the week that she'd been in prison, Igor was living there by himself, and upon returning Sally was most displeased to find the place completely trashed. Nevertheless, she grudgingly broke out the broom and dustpan and opened all of the windows to let out the musty, sickly odor of methamphetamine. And fortunately Igor rewarded her nightly with free (though poorly crafted) cups of Scarebucks coffee.

Jack on the other hand continued with his hermit-like existence, never leaving his house and ignoring the Mayor's phone calls. However this time, it wasn't just the grief over losing his girlfriend that kept him inside and away from the other town residents – he desperately wanted to avoid any confrontation regarding Anastasia's death sentence. He felt like a pathetic excuse for a ruler, but hibernating was his only known effective coping mechanism that didn't involve drugs or alcohol.

Otherwise, the rest of the Halloween Town citizens went about their business as usual. The Witch's Shop had implemented a new bag-check policy; all customers had to leave their bags in the designated armoire throughout the duration of their shopping trip (in order to reduce both theft and unexpected assault to the cashiers). Lock and Billy took over Anastasia's warehouse at the lagoon and went into "business" together. Their first customer surprisingly happened to be Stephen Wolfe, who claimed to be so broken up about his ex's impending demise that he was willing to try anything to ease the pain.

Wednesday morning, Billy's parents, Bob and Darla, announced unexpectedly that they were getting divorced. Devastated and in desperate need of consolation, Billy decided to write Jack a note asking for advice on how to cope with the situation. He left the note on Jack's doorstep around noon, only half expecting a reply. It read:

_My parents are splitting up and I am really shocked and upset. Someone told me that your parents also got divorced when you were my age. What did you do?_

_- Billy C._

Then surprisingly, a little over two hours later, the corpse child found an envelope on his own front porch. He opened it up, and written in elegant cursive on a crisp piece of parchment was:

_I cried. I kept journals. I played the piano._

Billy smiled to himself as he tucked the letter securely away in his shirt pocket. Then he made sure that nobody was looking, and proceeded to let the tears flow freely through the seams of his stitched-up eyes.

Even though the day had passed on fairly normal operations, as soon as the sun began to set the whole atmosphere of the town turned swiftly melancholic. Shops closed early and citizens quickly retreated to their homes, closing their shutters and locking their doors. Not out of fear, but rather respect for the solemn events that the forthcoming morrow would bring.

As for Jack, he sat at his dining room table that night with the only guest he'd had in over a week. This figure wore a black hooded cloak and carried a tool for reaping. He pushed a piece of paper in Jack's direction, which at the top was boldly headlined, _Executioner's Release._

Chest rattling, Jack examined the form with an inked quill pinched between his boney fingers. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and whispered a silent prayer. He opened his eyes. He signed the form.


	29. Burning Sunset

**Author's Note:** Friends, witches and warlocks! We have reached our finale. And just in time, for I will soon be returning to school. But please, do not flee just yet! I beg you to stay tuned for the epilogue, which shall shortly follow this chapter.

In the mean time, please feel free to indulge yourself in the last bits of our tale and let me know your thoughts; I am eternally grateful to those who have been avid followers/reviewers of this little charm. May your souls be stirred, your hearts warmed and your bones rattled!

"_In all languages of the world, there is the same proverb: 'What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.' Well, I say there isn't an ounce of truth in it. The further off they are, the closer to our heart are all those feelings we try to repress and forget. If we are in exile, we want to store away every tiny memory of our roots. When we're far from the person we love, everyone we pass in the street reminds us of them."_

_- Paul Coelho_

Sally awoke Thursday morning to the earsplitting call of a skeleton cockerel. She rubbed her eyes, which were dried out and swollen from crying the night before, and peered up at the clock on her wall. _12:34pm._

She shot up in bed, disoriented, and cringed at the sudden throbbing in her temples. Since when did she sleep past noon? While she was in prison she took frequent naps throughout the day, but sleeping for more than twelve hours at a time just seemed so…adolescent. Was she sick? No…her body must have just needed it. It took a lot of energy being heartbroken.

Yawning widely, the ragdoll rose from her moth-eaten mattress and trudged across the room to her armoire. She stripped off her pajamas and sifted through upwards of five garments until she located a long black funeral gown. The dress was velvet and backless; it had a raised lacey collar, quarter-length sleeves and the hemline rested just above her ankles. The breast was encrusted with small rhinestones in the shape of a spider. Probably the most expensive thing she owned, she found this little treasure several years back in a small, privately-owned boutique on the edge of Hemlock Homestead. She had been saving it for a special occasion…a birth, wedding, death…but it had been sitting in her closet collecting dust for so long she figured it needed some breaking in. And what tragic event was more appropriate than this?

Sally pulled the gown out of the armoire and brushed it off, sighing. She slipped into a black silk chemise, pulled some thigh-high stockings over her knees and threw the dress over her head. She wriggled her arms through the skin-tight sleeves and zipped up the collar, cursing as it snagged a tuft of her long red hair.

"Ow," she hissed, struggling to adjust the zipper. "Jack, can you get this?"

At that moment her already-broken heart shattered into several more pieces. _Jack's not here, you lovesick moron,_ she scolded herself. Then she let out another sigh, collapsing onto her bed. _Jack._ She hated that she missed him so much, that she loved him even more with every day that passed. But they just couldn't be together…now that Jack had breached her fragile trust. But was that really the only reason? Perhaps this unyielding wave of guilt and sorrow that had washed upon her ever since the day she left him came from another place. Maybe it was because all along, she knew that she had been wrong.

She was lying that day when she said to Jack that she no longer loved him. And she so badly wanted to accept his pleas for forgiveness when he was down on his knees, reaching desperately for her through the bars of her prison cell, but the shocking resemblance his former actions bared to her traumatic past had temporarily blinded her. She couldn't look at him without seeing the face of Dr. Finklestein. Her entire life the mad scientist routinely locked her away in her room, isolating her from the rest of the world and the one she loved. And when Jack sent her to prison it was like experiencing the dreaded childhood she thought she'd left behind all over again, but at the mercy of the only person she thought she could trust: the person that Dr. Finklestein had kept her away from for so many years.

Sally grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and dabbed at the moisture around her eyes. She had made a terrible, awful mistake. She'd let her petty fears and a past that had long since faded get in the way of the best thing that had ever happened to her, to anyone. And now it was too late. Jack would never take her back, after the cold, despicable way she had crushed his heart. Would he?

As if to quickly save Sally from herself, Igor suddenly stumbled into the room holding a cauldron of something hissing and boiling. He smiled crookedly, revealing a rotting snaggletooth, and sauntered over to the teary-faced ragdoll.

"Why is Master Sally sad?" he rasped in his throaty voice, brow crinkling in concern.

Sally blew her nose into another tissue. "Please Igor, we've been over this. I'm not your master. You're free now; you can do whatever you want and go wherever you please. You understand that, right?"

The hunchback continued to stare at her worriedly, uncomprehending.

Sucking in her cheeks, Sally resigned. "Whatcha got there?" she asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the bubbling mixture within Igor's cauldron.

"Breakfast for Master Sally!" he announced. "Igor make oatmeal with biscuits and old milk he find in Doctor's lab."

Sally choked back bile. "Um, thanks," she croaked. "But you know…it looks very hot. Perhaps we should let it cool down for a bit. Could you put it…_way_ over there?" She pointed to a solitary, cobweb-covered fern stand across the room.

Igor nodded eagerly and did as he was told.

"Hey buddy, why don't you get dressed and washed up?" Sally suggested as she rose to her feet once again. "Go put on that black tuxedo I made for you last Sunday. And I think I might be able to dig up a nice top hat to go with it."

"Okay!" agreed Igor. "Igor get all fancy for Master Sally."

Sally rolled her eyes, running a comb through her long auburn hair. "It's not for me, it's for – forget it. Just make sure you're finished by two-thirty."

As Igor scurried out of the room in excited heat, she added, "And don't forget to brush your teeth!"

With that, the dejected ragdoll trekked down the hallway and into the bathroom. She extracted her cosmetic supplies from the drawer and ran the faucet, splashing some cold water onto her face. Uncapping her eyeliner pencil, Sally dabbed some primer onto her eyelids and proceeded to trace her waterlines with the black ink.

Then, just as she was preparing a palette of various eye shadows, she heard a strange rumbling in the distance. At first she decided to ignore it, but the sound steadily increased and she began to grow distracted, which aggravated her. She slammed her makeup brush down on the counter and rushed back into her bedroom where she leaned out the window, struggling to identify the source of the rumbling.

It was then that her heart stopped and her hands went numb. Across the bridge to the Town Square marched a procession of unidentifiable ghouls lead by a hooded figure with a glimmering reaper. They were pulling along a tall wooden stake that sat atop a wheeled platform with several ropes attached.

Suddenly unable to breathe, Sally laid a trembling hand to her forehead and took a few steps backward. Her vision then went black and she collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

_**Two hours later…**_

"Master! Master Sally! Are you okay?"

Sally's eyes cracked open and she let out a small groan. As she struggled to hoist her body upright, the feeling gradually returned to her limbs and her vision solidified. She was surprised to see Igor hovering over her, dressed in a sleek black tux and top hat, a panicked expression contorting his features.

"Igor…" she murmured, groggy and confused. "Well, I see you managed to dress yourself today."

"Why was Master Sally sleeping on the floor?" inquired the anxious hunchback.

Sally rubbed her eyes, cursing when she noticed the smudges of black eyeliner on her knuckles. "I was just…taking a little nap," she replied half-heartedly. "What time is it?"

Igor squinted up at the analog clock on the wall and then reported, "The little hand is on the '2,' and the big hand is on the '10.' Igor wins!"

Sally gasped. "It's two-fifty! The execution starts in ten minutes!"

She scrambled to her feet and raced into the bathroom, hastily fixing her makeup. Then she grabbed a handful of cosmetics and shoved them along with her cell phone into a small black clutch purse. Spritzing her neckline with a rather large amount of tuberose perfume, she stuffed her feet into a pair of suede stilettos and stumbled down the spiral staircase towards the front door.

"Let's go, Igor!" she called impatiently up the stairs.

The hunchback appeared holding a tarnished bong along with a mini-mart lighter, a sheepish grin spread across his cheeks.

"Igor, not now!" demanded Sally.

Crestfallen, Igor dropped his bong and reluctantly followed the distraught ragdoll out the door.

At last they reached the Town Square where they found themselves quickly submerged in a sea of ghouls clad in gothic attire. The solemn knell of a requiem bell echoed from a distance, and Sally spotted the dreadful wooden stake from earlier stationed near the central fountain. It towered menacingly over the crowd of anxious citizens, casting a shadow that nearly reached across to the Town Hall. The Grim Reaper was assembling a pile of chopped wood around the base of the stake, and Behemoth approached him carrying a coil of rope along with a ladder.

Licking her dry lips, Sally withdrew a mesh veil from her purse and draped it seclusively over her face. She squeezed through the mass of ghouls, Igor stumbling along at her heels, until finally she burst out the back of the throng and stationed herself next to the guillotine monument. Discretely she scanned the assembly of council members that gathered around the front steps of the Town Hall. So far, there was no sign of Jack.

Distressed mutterings filled the plaza, causing Sally's ears to ring uncomfortably. She watched as the front doors of the Town Hall opened and Boris stepped outside clutching the left arm of Anastasia, whose wrists were firmly tied behind her back. Lars soon appeared behind them, quickly grabbing hold of Anastasia's other arm, and together the two guards escorted their prisoner to the center of the plaza. They stopped for a moment next to the tall wooden stake to speak with the executioner. Sally couldn't believe what she was about to witness.

Suddenly the Town Hall doors swung open once again, and out stepped a stone-faced Jack, who took his position on the front steps between the Mayor and the witch sisters. Sally's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her ex-lover, the curator behind this whole event. Never had she felt worse for causing Jack to question his leadership abilities…this entire time he was only acting on the town constitution, doing everything in his power to remain a fair and just ruler to his people. Sally couldn't even begin to imagine all of the hurt, stress and anguish he must have experienced in the past week. And at least half of it was on her account.

Jack took a step forward, silencing the crowd with a wave of his skeletal hand. Then he nodded in the direction of Lars, Boris and the executioner, which Sally assumed was the signal to begin. Behemoth positioned his ladder against the stake, and the executioner took Anastasia from the prison guards and instructed her to climb to the top of it and sit down.

For a reason Sally would never understand, the sea demon calmly complied. Without a word she sat on the top step with her back against the stake, and the Grim Reaper climbed up behind her with a coil of rope and fastened her firmly to it. Then he jumped back down and pulled the ladder away, leaving Anastasia to levitate helplessly twenty feet off the ground. However her cool, composed facial expression didn't change; in fact she almost looked bored.

Sally was beyond perplexed. Why wasn't Anastasia spitting and struggling like she was at the second trial? _Maybe this is what happens when one knows death is imminent,_ she thought to herself.

Beside Sally, Mr. Hyde (whom she hadn't noticed before) stifled a small whimper and lit a cigarette, offering drags to the two smaller Hydes under his hat. She stared at him, surprised.

"You smoke?" she asked.

Without exchanging eye contact with the ragdoll, Mr. Hyde flatly stated, "Honey, it's the 1950's. _Everyone_ smokes."

Sally sighed and returned her gaze to the dreadful spectacle before her. Up on the stake, Anastasia had closed her eyes and she appeared to be mumbling to herself, like she was praying. Below her Lars and Boris were piling more firewood around the stake's base, though Sally had lost sight of the executioner.

Suddenly the requiem bell started to ring louder and faster, and a large, glowing flame appeared just beneath the entryway to the Town Hall. Sally soon noticed that the flame was attached to a torch held high by the Grim Reaper, who slowly descended the front steps as Jack and the rest of the council members stepped aside.

Heart racing uncontrollably, Sally scanned the faces of the other ghouls in the crowd while everyone watched the executioner slowly make his way towards the helpless victim. She spotted Stephen Wolfe a few feet away from her, sobbing and trembling violently into the branches of the Hanging Tree. Lock, Shock, Barrel and Oogie were near the front of the group looking equally disturbed. Jack on the other hand retained his blank expression; he looked like a statue standing completely still and emotionless on the topmost step of the Town Hall. This was his last chance to call off the execution, as Sally half-expected he would…

"Let this be a lesson to you all!" Grim's voice suddenly boomed over the crowd. He stood at the base of the stake, repeatedly thrusting his torch up into the air. "Any resident of Halloween Town found guilty of manslaughter shall promptly be put to death at the stake regardless of atonement."

It was that moment that Anastasia's face suddenly went stark white. She squirmed uncomfortably in her position, and Sally could see moisture forming around the edges of her large yellow eyes. She couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears.

Firmly grasping the torch with both hands, Grim looked expectantly at Jack, like he was anticipating some kind of signal. The Pumpkin King squeezed his eye sockets shut, and everyone held their breath as time seemed to stand still for a moment. At last Jack bowed his head, giving a slow and subtle nod.

Sally watched in paralyzing horror as Grim bent down and set the pile of firewood alight. Quickly the flames augmented and engulfed the brittle lumber, emitting a shower of sparks and black smoke. Grim, Lars and Behemoth swiftly retreated to a safe distance and Boris suddenly took off running down the street. Jack had opened his eyes, and he was gazing upon the spectacle with the same numb, empty expression from before. All of the other ghouls in the plaza remained in similar a state of awestruck petrifaction.

With every second that passed the flames snaked higher up the stake, hissing and crackling like a deadly serpent. Hands sweating profusely, Sally waited in agony for the moment she'd finally look away. The flames climbed higher and higher. The requiem bell rang louder and louder. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. Sally's heart beat faster and faster.

When the fire climbed so high as to lick Anastasia's tailfin, Stephen Wolfe burst into a heartbreaking wail and Sally suddenly fell to her knees, shutting her eyes and covering her ears. She couldn't bear to watch any longer; even Anastasia Finn deserved to die with more dignity than this.

Sally remained like this, blind, deaf and unmoving, for fifteen excruciating minutes that seemed to last an eternity. She struggled with every fiber of her being to imagine herself somewhere else, like in a bright, peaceful meadow…

_Sally's heart swelled with fondness as bundles of chrysanthemums suddenly unfurled before her, swaying in the gentle breeze while all around her birds sang in perfect harmony. She twirled blissfully to their soothing melodies, giggling as she pranced into the middle of the clearing where the sun covered her entire body in pleasant warmth. In the midst of another twirl someone suddenly grabbed her by the arm and she stopped, turning to lay eyes upon the stranger. He was tall and thin with long, spider-like limbs and he smelled deliciously of pumpkin spice. He smiled lovingly down at Sally, proceeding to bend over and softly kiss her hand. It was Jack, and he had forgiven her…_

It wasn't until she felt a light tapping on her shoulder that Sally suddenly snapped back to reality. Through her slightly cracked eyelids she noticed Mr. Hyde hovering protectively over her, his cheeks sunken and his eyes grave. His wide build shielded Sally from the awful scene, and thus she cautiously uncovered her ears and proceeded to look up at him through her glazed, watery vision.

Removing his hat respectfully (his two doppelgangers doing the same), Mr. Hyde caressed Sally's back comfortingly and whispered, "Everything's okay now, darling. It's over."

Relieved though strangely remorseful, Sally rose to her feet and brushed off her velvet gown. She glanced warily over to the center of the plaza where she spotted the lonely stake, charred and smoking, with Behemoth and the executioner stationed near its base carrying something wrapped in a blanket. Sally's stomach gave a violent lurch as she realized what it was.

Mr. Hyde wrapped his arms around her as she once again began to tremble and choke, however no tears came to her eyes this time. She watched with a heavy heart as Behemoth hoisted the covered body onto a rolling platform and wheeled it into the back of the Mayor's hearse. The show was over, and Anastasia was dead.

It was then that the crowd of mournful citizens finally began to disperse. Slowly lifting her head off of Mr. Hyde's shoulder, Sally looked over towards the Town Hall where she spotted Jack and the other council members bowing their heads respectfully as the Mayor read a traditional prayer from a roll of crumpled parchment. Sally withdrew herself from Mr. Hyde's embrace and thanked him for his kind support. Then, with wobbly knees, she began to gradually make her way across the square through the scattering crowd.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she walked, but she kept a straight, steady path towards the Town Hall. She passed by Bob and Darla Corpsechild, who were blinking away tears as they held onto the hands of their bawling son, Billy. She spotted Lock, Shock and Barrel with their heads hung low, following a doleful Oogie out into the pumpkin patch. She saw Stephen Wolfe retching into the fountain. The requiem bell continued to echo solemnly from a distance, though it had slowed, and as Sally neared the blackened stake the air began to smell sickeningly of smoked trout.

At last she stopped a few feet away from the Mayor's hearse, and from there she calmly waited for him and the other council members to disband.

After several more minutes the witch sisters, Lars, the executioner and Behemoth finally nodded their goodbyes and went their respective ways. The Mayor, tucking away his roll of parchment, awkwardly turned and attempted to hug Jack's thin frame. But the Pumpkin King didn't respond. He merely stood there, still blank and rigid as a statue until the Mayor resigned and departed into his hearse, driving away towards the mortuary. It was when all of his cohorts had left that Jack suddenly dropped to his knees and began softly weeping into his hands.

Fresh tears welling up in her own eyes, Sally rushed over to the friend she never stopped loving and kneeled beside him, laying a small, quivering hand on his spine. "Come on, Jack," she spoke gently. "Let's go home."


	30. Epilogue: Evening Sand

**Author's Note:** At last we've reached the end of our tale, little lumplings. I cannot adequately express the amount of pleasure, joy and satisfaction I have cultivated in crafting this novel and sharing it with such kind devotees. It has been a wonderful outlet for my creative energy, and it has certainly quenched my ceaseless desire to wallow in the mystical depths of the NBC fandom. I am so grateful for your faith and appreciation of my story and I hope it has touched your heart in some way…there is nothing quite like planting your own flower in the garden of something so wonderful and inspiring as one of Tim Burton's masterpieces.

But alas I cannot promise that I will write any sort of continuation, or any offset tales for that matter, but perhaps if I am struck by yet another fantastic idea my flower may grow a child. Until that day may come, please remember me and smile, for it is far better to forget than to remember me and cry.

I shall remain a devout fan and reviewer to others' stories, and if any of you have a Facebook account and would like to be friends, feel free to visit my FanFiction profile and you will find the link to my own page there. Just include a message upon sending your friend request so I know who you are. :]

May the cosmos permit our paths to cross again, my friends! Thank you so much for all of your kindness, praise, advice and dedication. It has meant to me more than you will ever know.

Best wishes and cheers to you all,

Amira

"_In three words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."_

_- Robert Frost_

Although things were never quite the same in the land of Halloween after that fateful Labor Day in 1961, the sun still rose and fell each day and the seasons continued to turn with the months that passed. The townspeople worked hard to ensure that each upcoming Halloween was bigger and badder than the last, and in time the wounds left on their hearts by that tragic event faded.

However it seemed that the lagoon had since become a staple of fear and ill fortune; it was said that Anastasia's spirit, having never been properly laid to rest, still slinked through the murky waters preying on unsuspecting passersby. Town elders attempted to frighten children into behaving by warning them not to wade too deeply into the swamp waters, for the ghost of an old criminal might grab their feet and pull them under to drown helplessly. It seemed to work, for the most part. Sasha, a small bat child, confirmed this superstition with the claim that when she went to sit lakeside one night, someone unseen began singing her an eerie Slavic lullaby (for Anastasia was half Russian, you know).

As for the rest of the town's inhabitants, time passed slowly yet quickly as it did, and each ghoul (while still placing fervent efforts into the annual holiday celebrations) became increasingly determined to find a unique place of his or her own in this world. Lock, Shock and Barrel grew to their late teens and began work as busboys at "Boogie's Bar and Casino." Although each of the three tricksters had led their own journey through early adolescence, they had retained one another's support along the way, for better or worse. In the end it'd be safe to say that they came to be fairly mature, well-rounded citizens while still boasting a cunning title in the spirit and traditions of Halloween.

When Shock was sixteen, she entered the Wexley Academy of Witchcraft, where she decided to pursue a degree in palm-reading. As the circumstances of her existence rapidly improved with this new sense of autonomy, after her first quarter at Wexley she opted for their hypnotism program to quit smoking. The procedure was successful for a number of months until Shock relapsed in the summer of 1965 when Oogie Boogie crashed his doom-buggy and suffered severe head trauma. The town's new employed doctor (Chucky McClown, of all people – he never told anyone before that he had a PhD) had said that Oogie's chances of survival were slim. Though by some miracle of the heavens the boogeyman pulled through, and Shock became re-inspired not to let herself die prematurely. As of now she has been smoke-free for almost a year.

Much like his playmate, Barrel decided to take preliminary measures to deal with his own life-long addiction. At fourteen he joined Alcoholics Anonymous, where he found solace and companionship in a lot of his fellow townspeople that he didn't know struggled with the same ordeal. Stephen Wolfe was one of these ghouls, who claimed he started to drink heavily after Anastasia's death three years ago. The Hanging Tree was another one (though he tried to convince everyone that his hanging man Mo was the one with the problem). Together they formed a tight-knit group that offered ample encouragement towards one another, and Barrel found himself to be sober and dry for nearly six months after that. He has since taken up glass-blowing, a creative, relaxing hobby to fill the time he would normally spend drinking.

Unfortunately their third counterpart Lock, upon becoming too adventurous with his friend Billy, developed a cocaine addiction shortly after his fifteenth birthday. What made the situation even more inconvenient was that he had just applied for a two-year study program at the town's community college to hopefully specialize in business communications. He'd tried his best to keep his new addiction under wraps from his family, but Shock caught him down in Oogie's basement one day snorting lines and she immediately contacted the town's rehab facilities (as she does care deeply for both of her playmates, no matter how hard she'll try to convince you otherwise). Lock checked in the following afternoon and since then he has been undergoing effective treatment and should be free to go in a matter of weeks.

And as for Jack and Sally, they quickly rebuilt all burned bridges between them and strived to lead a happy, romantic life together in Skellington Manor. Sally sold the lab to Chucky to use as a medical organization; the clown gratefully accepted his new office and living quarters and employed Igor as an assistant nurse.

On Halloween night 1962, Jack proposed to Sally via candlelit serenade in the Town Square. Of course, she readily accepted and the couple was wed in the Town Hall the following weekend. Afterwards they proceeded to honeymoon in Valentine Town with Cupid's blessing, thereby marking the occasion as a collection of some of the most romantic, fulfilling, awe-inspiring moments of their lives. In fact they were so full of passion that Jack no longer had any qualms about commitment in spite of his own parents' failed marriage; he and Sally loved each other to the ends of the Earth (and what lies beyond), and that was enough for Jack to believe in nothing more than the sanctity of his eternal partnership. And Sally keenly dressed the wounds of her own troubled past until she could name not a single person in the world that she trusted as much Jack.

Upon anticipating the two-year anniversary of their marriage, Jack and Sally found themselves desiring children (in the most appropriate way possible). Since a skeleton and a ragdoll cannot reproduce, the pair decided to adopt twin snipes from the town orphanage which they named Tyson and Sequoia. These snipes, who were two years old at the time of their adoption, quickly warmed up to their new home and family and have since begun enrollment in kindergarten.

Jack and Sally finally had everything they could have ever wanted, least of all each other, and as time continued to run its steady, unyielding course they learned to let all haunting memories fall back into the only place they'd ever belong – the past.

One crisp autumn night in 1966, Jack and Sally sat arm-in-arm atop Spiral Hill, bathed in pale moonlight, watching Tyson and Sequoia play blissfully in the pumpkin patch below.

Humming serenely, Sally rested her head on Jack's shoulder. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" she whispered.

Jack smiled and ran his fingers through his ragdoll's long red hair. "As are you, my love."

"You're so cheesy," Sally giggled. "But I don't – Sequoia! Stop pulling on your brother's feathers!"

"Sorry, Mommy!" chirped the female snipe from the foot of the hill.

"Don't say sorry to me, tell Tyson!"

"Sorry, Tyson."

"That's right you're sorry!" squeaked Tyson before bounding away and slipping behind a large gourd. "Betcha can't catch me, Quoia!"

Jack and Sally clasped hands in warm delight as they watched their children play in the shadows of the guiding night. The two parents turned to each other and kissed briefly, though it felt just the same as their first atop Spiral Hill under the same moon eight years ago. Sally's heart fluttered as she gazed into her husband's nonexistent eyes.

Suddenly she felt a breath of cold wind whistle across from the lagoon and for a moment she could have sworn she smelled burning fish. Rather uneasy, she scooted closer to Jack and nestled her face into his collarbone.

"Is everything alright?" Jack asked his wife as he patted her shoulder soothingly.

Letting out a small sigh, Sally blinked and then lifted her head. "Say, Jack," she began forlornly. "Do you remember that night when the sky was so dark and the moon shone so bright? And you threw a party so all the town's ghouls could have a good time, but instead it became a lasting battle between evil and benign?"

Jack sat completely still next to her, though not rigid, just silent and thoughtful.

"And would you, if you could," Sally continued, "turn that mighty clock back to that long fateful night…? Now think carefully, Jack."

The skeleton remained hushed and unmoving beside her, a distant look on his face.

"Would you do the whole thing all over again, knowing what you know now…knowing what you knew then?" Sally squeezed his boney hand gently.

And then Jack smiled, like the dear Pumpkin King that she knew. Finally he turned and asked softly of her, "Wouldn't you?"

**- THE END -**


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